


Three sugars and a splash of daddy, please

by aroundloafofbread, Wolven_Spirits



Series: You're Sticky Sweet [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Eventual Smut, Harry is an alchemist, Harry is his sugar daddy, M/M, Possessive Tom Riddle, Ravenclaw Harry, Tom is a budding dark lord, sweet and kind Harry Potter
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-08
Updated: 2019-12-22
Packaged: 2020-10-12 15:41:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 21,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20566796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aroundloafofbread/pseuds/aroundloafofbread, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wolven_Spirits/pseuds/Wolven_Spirits
Summary: After graduating from Hogwarts, Tom Riddle is struggling to make his way up in the world.Enter Harry Potter, a man who is more than happy to spoil him as if money means nothing.Tom is determined to figure out what Harry's game is. Because no one is that kind and generous without wanting something in return... right?





	1. I like it sweet

**Author's Note:**

> This work is a written collaboration between Wolven_Spirits and aroundloafofbread.
> 
> A twist on the usual sugar daddy trope.
> 
> We hope you enjoy!

“Twenty galleons,” Tom said, eyes narrowing at the aged shopkeeper, “for a book this old?”

The old man bared yellowed teeth. “’S what I said, boy. A rare book, that one. Don’t find it just anyplace.”

Tom’s lips pursed. It was true, he wouldn’t find a better price anywhere else. The book he wanted was difficult to find - in part because there were so few copies, and in part because it was practically illegal. Still, he had hoped to weasel a lower price out of old Mr. Theed.

Normally he would not hesitate to spend the money - such knowledge was well worth his meagre savings. But his bosses were stingy, refusing to pay him more than once a month, and this was the last of the money he had to feed himself for the rest of the week.

Tom fingered his coin purse, eyes lingering longingly on the books, but he knew he couldn’t. Not if he wanted to survive the week. He’d already had to cut into his funds to replace his suit and shoes for work. If he used up the rest, he would most certainly starve.

He briefly debated attempting to persuade the shopkeeper, but Mr. Theed rarely, if ever, dropped his prices. Tom had shopped here more than enough times to know just how unyielding the man was.

Tom scowled inwardly. Merlin how he hated this. The humiliation, the loss of knowledge… He avoided looking at Mr. Theed. The man was watching him knowingly, a look that taunted his poverty. He clenched his fist. Then he schooled his expression and tilted his chin upwards, not willing to be seen as weak.

“I refuse to pay such an obscene price for a mere book,” he said instead, lip curling derisively. He saw Mr. Theed raise his eyebrows and open his mouth to reply when an arm reached around him and dropped twenty galleons onto the counter.

“Here,” a cheerful voice rang from behind him. “It’s - er, payback for the last time. Um, you remember, don’t you? When you helped me out?”

Tom turned, eyes narrowed. He did not recognize the man, nor did he remember helping him out. Tom was not the charitable sort, after all. And even if he was, he certainly did not have the funds to help others.

He felt further unsettled when he realized that he hadn’t even noticed anyone waiting behind him and he didn’t like the fact that a stranger had been able to sneak up on him so easily.

His eyes fell upon a young man who looked vaguely familiar. He was shorter than Tom, with messy hair and bright green eyes that were mostly hidden behind a round pair of spectacles. He might have looked a little more put together were it not for the fact that his sweater was about two sizes too large. A fine material, Tom noted, and it dwarfed the man in an oddly endearing way, hanging past his hips where it hadn’t been tucked into his trousers. One of the arms was bunched at his elbow, but the other hung down past his fingertips. 

Tom eyed the man speculatively. He received an open smile in response. Tom decided to return the gesture, pleasant and friendly. “Of course, I simply hadn’t expected you to remember.” He turned to Mr. Theed And nodded at the book. More than once before he had been approached by a customer at Borgin & Burkes who wanted to treat him in return for certain _ favours _. Tom was no stranger to such carnal desires, not that he ever allowed his customers to lay their hands on him. He wondered where this particular interaction would lead him, but was well versed in enough dangerous spells to protect himself if need be. 

The shopkeeper eyed them suspiciously but grunted and swept away the coins before wrapping the book in thick paper and handing it over to Tom.

“Thank you,” Tom gave him a stiff smile. He waited for the stranger to pay for his item - a curious black stone - before joining the man as he exited the shop. He was intrigued, of course, but also suspicious. The man looked so deceptively harmless, his expression open and clear, eyes bright and cheerful. An excellent actor, Tom admitted. But he would find out what this man wanted, and if it was not something Tom was willing to pay, then… well, Tom would simply have to deal with him.

“I hope you don’t mind,” the man said as they stepped back into Knockturn Alley. “I didn’t mean to presume that you needed - or wanted - my help, it’s just… well,” he gave an easy shrug - a gentle roll of his shoulders. “I thought you should have the book if you wanted it, even if it was a bit expensive.”

Tom raised his eyebrows. “That is… very kind of you. To do so much for a stranger.”

The man held out a hand “I’m Harry. Harry Potter.”

Tom took his hand a little slowly. “Tom Riddle.”

Potter shook his hand enthusiastically, then gave a bright laugh. “There, not strangers anymore.”

Tom couldn’t help but stare. _ What an odd man _. “Do you do this for every stranger you meet?” He couldn’t help but ask. The man seemed kind, most certainly. But Tom knew better than to believe such masks. He had ruled Slytherin, after all. If anyone could spot deception, it would be him.

Harry Potter ran a hand through his messy hair, looking a little unsure. “I mean, not really? Just - well, if I see someone who could use a bit of help, I figure - why not?”

_ Why not _. Tom could think of a dozen reasons why not, but of course he wouldn’t say that out loud - in case Potter decided to rescind his magnanimity. 

“It is very kind of you,” Tom hedged, “to give without expecting anything in return.” 

Potter shrugged again, and Tom found the casual gesture oddly fitting for the young man. **“** I don’t do such things to put others in my debt **.**” He must have seen something in Tom’s expression because he then ran a hand through his hair. “Look, I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable about the whole situation. So how about this. If you really want to pay me back, then lend me your company for lunch and I’ll consider us even.”

Tom blinked at the request, then curved his lips into a smile. “Of course, I would be most delighted.” _ Delighted to pick you apart. Delighted to see just what motives you could have, dear Harry Potter _. Tom smiled a little wider.

He received a blinding grin in return. “Great! I know a fantastic place. My treat, so don’t worry about anything.” 

Tom pursed his lips at the taunt, but said nothing as he eyed Potter’s back. It was a little too warm out to be wearing a sweater, but he had to admit that the material looked soft and comfortable. The green-eyed man certainly didn’t seem bothered by the late summer heat. 

“I think you’ll like it,” Potter was saying, as if he had known Tom for years instead of minutes. “It’s a cafe connected to my favourite bookstore. Fantastic food.”

Tom’s eyes narrowed. He had worked at Borgin & Burkes’ all summer and knew both Diagon Alley and Knockturn Alley fairly well. And yet he had never before heard of a place like this. 

They wound deeper down the alley and despite his reservations, Tom found himself sticking close to Harry to avoid the prying eyes and long-fingered reach of the hags that lurked in the corners and the questionable creatures that roamed the street. Still, he fingered his wand, eyes sharp upon his surroundings and his odd companion. The man was confident in his strides despite being in such a disreputable area and he even nodded at one of the filthy street vendors. Merlin, was he perhaps following a madman?

“Just up here,” Potter glanced back at Tom, his easy smile still in place. “I promise I’m not leading you here to kidnap you,” he continued, as if reading Tom’s thoughts.

Tom schooled his expression as he nodded. There were enough other people close by who would hear his screams. And if he truly needed, he could fight back or apparate away. Potter might have a few galleons in his pockets, but Tom had such power at his fingertips - he would have this man on his knees and begging before he could even cast his first spell.

He was led down a small alleyway covered in shimmering vines and then up a rounded staircase to the second story of a dark stone building. The further up they climbed, the more refined the stones seemed, gleaming with reflected light until they reached a large set of rounded double doors. They opened ahead of them and Potter strode in with a friendly nod to the two doormen who bowed as they passed by.

Tom fought to keep his eyes from wandering too obviously as they navigated past towering stacks of leather-bound books and gleaming gold tools. Still, he couldn’t help but turn his head as titles foiled in gold along the spines caught his eye. 

_ Moste Rare and Potente Herbes _ ; _ Dark Spells for your Greatest Enemies _ ; _ The Forbidden _

Tom’s eyes widened. Such books, both dark and highly illegal… just how exclusive was this place? Such opulence that ran undetected by ministry eye… Tom had to admire their cunning secrecy.

Potter caught his eye as he turned back and grinned. “I figured you’d appreciate it here. They have quite an impressive selection.”

Tom nodded slowly. Impressive, most certainly. But he did not want to imagine just how much they would cost.

One day, he promised himself. One day he would be able to afford all of them. And no one would look down on him or dismiss him or scoff at his name. 

He kept quiet as they passed into the next room, even though he wanted nothing more than to peruse the shelves. To crack open the spines of each and every book and devour their contents. He hadn’t thought that he would care much for the building beyond the books, but he had to admit that the cafe was beautiful. Tall white columns were etched with delicate gold filigree, and stretched across the tall vaulted ceiling was a painted scene depicting the eighteenth century Goblin Rebellion in minute detail. Each table was surrounded by a privacy barrier and though Tom could hear murmured voices, he could not make out a single word.

They were immediately greeted by a waiter whose suit was of far finer quality than Tom’s, and led to a table next to one of the windows. It overlooked a lush courtyard that was not visible from the alley. Tom wondered how much else there was hidden from the average eye, available only to those with enough coin in their pockets.

He eyed Potter speculatively. He certainly didn’t seem excessively wealthy. Well-to-do, most certainly, but his finely made clothes were not ostentatious like the Malfoys, nor gaudy like the Parkinsons. He also held himself differently. Confident, but not… arrogant. Tom found himself reluctantly impressed. To convey such earnest humility was no easy feat.

“Order whatever you want,” Potter encouraged as Tom was given a menu.

He opened it a little warily and forced himself not to react as he noted more gold filigree decorating the edges of the pages. The dishes all sounded extravagant, with ingredients Tom had never even heard of before. And on top of that, there weren’t even any prices.

He forced away an embarrassed flush as he struggled to understand the menu. Tom’s eyes flicked above his menu to observe his companion, but the man was perusing the menu with a curious hum. Tom glanced down quickly before Potter could catch him staring.

“Anything in particular that you would like to try?” Potter asked. “All of their ingredients are fresh and exquisitely prepared. Really, I guarantee you will enjoy it.”

Tom forced a smile onto his lips despite his uncertainty. “I’m afraid there are so many I just can’t quite decide.” Merlin, how he hated this feeling of powerlessness. This lack of knowledge. This inability to comprehend what was in front of him, merely because he lacked the money.

“Oh,” Potter seemed to deflate a little. But it only took a moment for him to perk back up. “I’m happy to order for the both of us, if you would like. I am quite used to the menu.”

Tom dipped his head in acquiescence. It was far less likely that Potter would renege on his promise to treat Tom if he was the one ordering. Not that Tom could afford any of these, most likely. He doubted the coin he had left would cover any of the dishes.

Potter beamed as if Tom had done him a great favour. “One of each,” he said when the waiter came by. Then he glanced back at Tom, who had to force his face to remain placid. “This way you can try a little bit of everything.”

“Most kind of you,” Tom murmured, eyes lowering to avoid the way Potter’s green eyes sparkled in the sunlight. The way his face lit up when he smiled.

This man was _ good _. He knew how to play the game. How to appear so very friendly and kind. How to hide his true intentions.

But Tom was no amateur. He had been nurtured in the shadow of cunning and deception, and he would uncover what this Harry Potter wanted with him. And if necessary, he would crush the man, pretty green eyes and all.

“So, Tom, tell me about yourself.” Potter was smiling that easy smile again, as if he wasn’t waiting for Tom to reveal any hint of weakness.

“I recently graduated from Hogwarts,” Tom replied as he sipped the tea that had been set in front of him. It tasted exquisite. “I am, at the moment, deciding which path I wish to pursue.”

Potter nodded. “Makes sense. It’s a big decision. Not that you can’t change your mind later on, but… well, it’s nice to know that you’re making the right choice.”

“Indeed,” Tom’s smile was a little thin as he resisted the urge to reveal more about himself. Harry was worryingly easy to talk to. So very good at gathering information. He forced the conversation away from himself. “And yourself?”

“Me?” Potter looked a little startled, as if he hadn’t expected the question. Did he not expect Tom to play the game as well? “Well, I graduated from Hogwarts - what, five? Six years ago now? And I am just completing my final project as a journeyman in Alchemy.”

“Alchemy?” Tom said, admittedly impressed. “That is no easy field.”

Potter laughed a little and ran a hand through his hair. “It’s not so bad if you don’t mind all the reading and experimenting.”

Tom quirked a brow. “Ravenclaw, then?” He deduced.

Potter grinned. “Got it in one." He narrowed his eyes at Tom thoughtfully. "Slytherin?”

Tom dipped his head. “Indeed.”

Potter laughed, obviously unbothered by Tom’s affiliation with the house of snakes. “I thought so. You snakes tend to be the most interested in the more questionable Arts.”

Tom raised a brow. “I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about.” His eyes darted to the other patrons, but it seemed that the muffling charms held true and none so much as glanced their way.

“There is nothing wrong with taking an interest in the more… obscure magics,” Potter gave another rolling shrug. “It’s not really my field, but you can’t practice alchemy without dipping your fingers into some of the darker arts.”

Tom waited as the server approached their table and placed down a long row of dishes. At Potter’s gesture he took a small serving of each one, mouth already watering at the sight and smell of the food. 

Only when the waiter had left did he speak again. “And yet I had heard that Alchemy was a noble profession.”

“Oh?” Potter blinked. “I mean, in some ways, I suppose it is.” He tapped a finger on the table thoughtfully. “But it is a complex field that requires knowledge from various other fields to combine on top of the alchemy itself. The use of runes and arithmancy as well as rituals that have long been considered dark.”

Tom made a sound of encouragement as he took his first bite. The slice of fish that he had chosen melted in his mouth and he chewed slowly, savouring the rush of flavour. 

“Potions ingredients are an especially important aspect,” Potter seemed to have no trouble talking animatedly between bites. “The physical presence of magical components is just as important as the rest. The ‘wand waving’, as one might call it. That’s actually why I was in Tools and Tomes. I was hoping that Mr. Theed carried siren scales and dried unicorn blood, but unfortunately he seemed to be out.”

Tom paused then and lowered his fork. He studied the man from beneath his lashes. Weighing. Judging. “If you are looking for such ingredients,” he said finally, “Borgin & Burkes is expecting a shipment of rare potions ingredients at the end of the week.” Yes. He had decided. He would keep Harry, at least for now. The man was intriguing, playing a game that even Tom had a hard time deciphering. He wanted to pick Potter apart. Find out what lay behind those green eyes of his. And if the man proved to be as simple, as boring as his classmates, then, well, he could always use another blind follower. 

Harry’s eyes lit up. “Really? I have not been there for a few years now. You are sure of this?”

Tom resisted the urge to sneer. “Indeed. I am their employee and keep track of their purchases and shipments.”

“Wonderful! Thank you, Tom. I appreciate it. I was having a hard time finding them, especially here in Britain.” Harry smiled then, bright and warm and really, he made it seem like it was the easiest expression to wear. “I was hoping to avoid any more international portkeys for a while.”

“You travel often, then?” Tom inquired, rather curious. Alchemy had never truly been something he’d been interested in. It had always seemed far too… fantastical. And he had dismissed it completely once he had read that Albus Dumbledore had dabbled in it. He wanted nothing to do with the man.

“Yes, mostly for research. Nick has an incredible research laboratory in Switzerland, so we spend most of our time there. It has been our home base for the past few years, so I haven’t been back to Britain much at all.” 

“Well,” Tom said, seeing a slight nostalgic gleam in Harry’s eyes, “welcome home then, I suppose I should say. You must be happy to be back.”

Harry blinked in surprise before his smile returned. “Thank you, Tom. It’s nice to hear that. It’s good to be back - it really is. But I’ve been gone for a while, and returning has been… a little bit difficult, I have to admit.”

Tom tilted his head in an encouraging motion. He wondered what Harry gained from telling him all of this. Strangely open, Tom mused. Perhaps a bid to earn Tom’s trust. It was cute, in a way. Rather endearing, the way Harry appeared to be so earnest. But Tom would play along, at least for now.

Harry seemed to appreciate Tom’s quiet support, for he looked at Tom gratefully. “I was never really one to make a lot of friends.” For a moment something almost sad passed across his face. Then it was gone again. “I wasn’t very good at keeping in touch with them when I was gone either, so that now that I’m back, most of them have their own lives now.” His smile turned a little self-deprecating. “I really can’t blame anyone but myself, but it does get a little bit lonely. I think I had gotten pretty used to always having someone around. Not that I’m completely alone, of course, but, well, it’s just nice to have a bit more to one’s company, you know?”

Tom sent an appropriately understanding look, even as he wondered how many others had seen through Harry’s friendly guise. “Of course. It is… difficult when you find that your friends have drifted off.” Not that Tom ever bothered to make _ friends _. He had acquaintances and followers and that was all he needed. And they would certainly never dare drift in loyalty. He would make them regret it if they ever did.

“So I really appreciate it, you spending time with me, I mean,” Harry said, reaching over and placing his hand on top of Tom’s. It was warm and lightly calloused, and Tom found himself surprised that the man was so forward. 

“The pleasure is all mine,” he said with a smile that he hoped looked natural and warm. He was not used to people touching him. Most of the students at Hogwarts didn’t dare - either out of fear or awe. He supposed he didn’t mind, exactly. Harry’s touch was gentle and fleeting, retreating before it became indecent. His hand felt oddly cold as Harry moved away.

It was a strange thought, to enjoy the touch of another’s skin. Tom was far from an affectionate person, and beyond using it to manipulate others, he did not initiate physical contact with others. Still, he had to admit that Harry’s hand had felt… nice. 

“Unfortunately,” Tom said as he checked his pocket watch, “I must return to work. My lunch break is almost up.”

“Ah,” Harry’s face fell a little. “Of course,” he said hurriedly. “I didn’t mean to keep you or anything.” He signalled the waiter and asked for the remaining food to be packed up. 

The server returned moments later and directed the food into the small box with his wand. He placed it in the middle of the table before straightening. “Anything else for you gentlemen?”

Tom glanced at the small box, then at Harry, who looked ready to speak. A sudden curious thought came to mind and he reached forward and took the box in hand, giving Harry an innocent smile. He wanted to see how the man would react to his bold move. Would this be enough to reveal his true intentions? Tom ended up being a little disappointed, though, when the green-eyed man merely blinked at him in slight surprise, no irritation in his gaze. No impatience, no anger, no frustration. 

Instead Harry grinned that crooked grin and turned to the waiter. “A little extra for Balthazar, if you please. Just the usual is fine.”

The waiter nodded and left with a quick bow.

Tom turned the name over in his head. Balthazar. A pureblood name, most certainly. He wondered what family. And what he was to Harry. A friend? A partner? A lover?

The usual, Harry had said. A common occurrence, then. Which meant likely a partner. His eyes narrowed imperceptibly. That could complicate things if Tom wanted to draw Harry in. But - _ ‘it’s nice to have a bit more to one’s company’ _, Harry had said. If Balthazar was so lacking, then it would be easy for Tom to lure Harry away.

His eyes lidded as he watched Harry accept a box of food from the server. To press his ring to a piece of parchment, eyes barely glancing at the incredible amount this meal must have cost. 

Harry Potter would be useful, even if only for his great wealth. Tom had plans, after all. Ones that would need funding. And once he unraveled the green-eyed man, he would twist him around his fingers until he bowed to Tom’s every whim. It wouldn’t be too difficult. His eagerness to befriend Tom would only make him fall harder into Tom’s web.

His lips twitched at the thought. He had always enjoyed mind games, and this one promised to be _ very _ fun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tom lifted the different dishes from the small box and stared. Each one was wrapped in a section of thin, sheer fabric - one that shimmered and blended, looking as if there was nothing there at all but for a faint golden gleam woven throughout each piece.
> 
> Demiguise hair. Woven through with fine filaments of gold.
> 
> Merlin’s scraggly beard.


	2. Two Spoonfuls of Honey

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The second chapter is here! We hope you enjoy! XD

Even without the wards, Tom could always tell the moment a customer walked into the shop. Their presence was always accompanied by a prickle at the back of his neck. It was the same instinct that ensured his survival in the orphanage where he once lived.

The sort of client to visit Borgin and Burkes tended to be either unsavoury characters or wealthy people from the upper echelons of society. They all carried themselves with a secretive and shifty air. This made the visible contrast between the newest customer and the usual client even more apparent.

Tom smiled at the sight of his prey walking into the den. Potter was dressed in another oversized sweater of expensive make, this time in a warm olive shade that brought out the green of his eyes. He looked bright and fresh and glowed with health in a way that was jarring in the dark and grimy store. 

Tom put on a charming expression before calling out to the man.“Harry.”

Harry spun around and gave him what Tom was coming to think of as his signature easy smile. “Tom! Hi, I’m here to make an order for -”

“Siren scales and dried unicorn blood.” Tom finished Harry’s sentence for him.

Harry stared at Tom with wide eyes for a moment before he suddenly gave Tom a blinding smile. “You remembered.” He said, his voice a little softer than usual. He beamed at Tom, his eyes sparkling with some unnamed emotion. 

Tom struggled to keep the small upturn of his lips on his own face. Harry Potter was so odd. How the man could muster up so much emotion over such a small matter was baffling. It was, after all, Tom’s job to remember what customers wanted.

Tom met Harry’s eyes for a brief moment, subtly flaring his legilimency. He did not dare risk anything stronger in case Harry had occlumency shields in place. It took but a moment, and - 

_Treacle tart. A bird pecking at the last of the crumbs. Blue sky. Tom, his face surrounded by sparkles and warped into a horrifyingly cheerful grin, so bright it shone._

Tom was barely able to keep his face straight as he sorted through what he had seen. The incomprehensible mess that was the surface of Harry Potter’s mind. It was all so _odd_.

Unless it was all a trick - unless Potter _knew_ that Tom had been snooping, and had set the images up to taunt him. That seemed almost more likely, for Tom was certain that he had _never_ smiled in such a way.

Then again, a mastery of occlumency was difficult and exceedingly rare. The thought calmed Tom as he set about gathering Harry’s order.

Perhaps he simply needed to understand Harry better first. Tom smirked inwardly as he felt the little rush of excitement that came with the thought of prying a person apart.

“Thank you, I really appreciate it, Tom.” Harry continued to beam at him like the sun. Tom didn’t like the sun at all. He preferred the murky shadows of the Slytherin dungeons.

Tom nodded, and after a moment of consideration, laid his hand on the small of Harry’s back. “Of course, please follow me.” The sweater was soft and he could feel a radiating warmth under his palm.

Walking around to the corner of the shop where the towering cabinets of ingredients were kept, Tom carefully opened the worn-out wooden shelves and picked at the siren scales.

“I’m fascinated by the choice of ingredients. How do you intend to use these in your alchemy work?” Tom started conversationally. It wasn’t that he couldn’t guess at the answer, but he found that allowing people to talk about themselves in some manner was a good way to build a sense of shared interests, false as it may be.

As expected, Harry took the bait and visibly perked up at the topic. “The siren scales are a very good catalyst for larger alchemic experiments to speed up the process of magical reaction. And it also allows for new runes to be added to alchemic circles while the dried unicorn blood acts as a stabiliser. I’m choosing not to use fresh unicorn blood because it’s really hard to control and -” Harry nattered on excitedly.

Tom hummed in response, only half-listening as he deposited the siren scales and dried unicorn blood into separate vials. Until he realised Harry looking at him expectantly.

“Pardon?” He asked, silently berating himself for missing the question.

Harry’s smile drooped the slightest bit. “Oh I asked if the book from Tools and Tomes was useful for you.”

“Ah yes, very.” Tom replied, trying his best to smile so Harry did not feel too slighted. He was rather surprised that Harry would bother to ask about Tom. Most people went on and on about themselves with little effort on Tom’s part to keep the conversation going, except to prompt them for more information.

Harry opened his mouth, clearly about to say something else when Tom felt a prickle at the back of his neck again. He turned his head sharply to face the door.

“What’s wrong?” Harry asked as he registered the increased tension in Tom’s shoulders.

Tom shook his head very slightly. “It’s nothing, just another customer.” But it wasn’t just another customer. It was Hepzibah Smith, who had visited Borgin and Burkes just last week and from their previous interaction, Tom had known that she would be coming back. 

Her beady eyes latched immediately onto Tom as she entered the shop, the lust evident in the lines of her large, sweaty face. 

Beside Tom, Harry tilted his head ever so slightly.

“Oh, Tom!” Hepzibah made her way over to the two at a speed unexpected from her large bulk. “What a lovely afternoon it is! Have you anything nice to show me today?”

_No_, Tom thought in annoyance as she shoved her heaving bosom against his arm. He resisted the urge to cringe. 

He was doubly annoyed, he realized as he subtly stepped away from her, that she had just interrupted Tom’s time alone with Harry. 

Honestly, even if the shop did have any new items, he wouldn’t want to spend a single minute more showing her their procurements. It didn’t matter even if she was likely to spend her galleons, since only a tiny percentage made it into his salary. It was hardly worth suffering through her presence for a mere pittance.

“I’m afraid there hasn’t been a new shipment recently, Mrs. Smith.” Tom replied politely. From the corner of his eye, he saw Harry look at him in puzzlement.

“So courteous as always, Tom! I told you to call me Hepzibah. Ah but that’s too bad. I’ve found a few wonderful pieces here. But of course nothing here is more lovely than you, my dear!” Hepzibah tittered while fanning at the folds of her neck. 

Tom tried his very hardest not to grimace. In a stroke of genius, he moved closer to Harry and placed a proprietary arm around his waist in order to guide him to the counter. His forearm settled into the dip of Harry's back. He didn't say anything, and simply allowed Hepzibah to make her own conclusions from the action.

Her reaction was instantaneous - her eyes bulging out as they snapped over to Harry. She studied him like she would a fly. From the corner of his eye, Tom saw Harry give her a confused but friendly smile. Hepzibah stared at Harry for a moment before she broke out into what Tom could only describe as a leering grin.

"My my my! Who is this? What a _lovely_ young man!" Hepzibah gushed, her eyes roving greedily over Harry. "Such fine skin. And you have the prettiest eyes!"

Tom stood frozen, for once completely speechless. He had not expected this. He had not expected this at all. He felt a sudden surge of cold rage at the idea that Hepzibah wanting to put her grubby, filthy paws on Harry. He didn’t quite know why, but he hated, hated, _hated_ the thought of it.

Harry was his, wasn’t he? Yes. Tom had decided that Harry would be _useful_. He had _plans_ and how dare Hepzibah show any sort of _interest_ in - 

“Your eyes are just like the little green gemstones on my Slytherin locket.” Hepzibah winked.

Tom felt as if he was submerged in water, his head heavy and his breaths shallow. What he had just heard... The Slytherin locket… as in… the locket that was his birthright...

“Your Slytherin locket?” Harry prompted, sounding curious.

Hepzibah’s eyes glinted, looking almost smug, perhaps from the opportunity to show off her collection. “Why, yes! I purchased it right here, in this very shop. Caractacus sold it to me for an extremely high price,” Hepzibah told them in her thick, nasally voice, “not that I couldn’t _afford_ it, of course. But I knew instantly what it was when I first saw it. I have an eye for these things, you know. As it turns out, he paid pittance for it from a ragged-looking woman. Cheated out of her last inheritance.” She leaned forward conspiratorially. “Well I’ll say she deserved it if she didn’t even know its real value.” Hepzibah let out a smug giggle, a sound like the squealing of a pig.

Tom did not believe he could feel anymore shock but he was clutching tightly to Harry’s waist. Try as he might, he was unable to unclench his fingers. So tight was his hold that he was certain Harry would move away from the force of his grip. Yet Harry stayed where he was, glued to Tom’s side. A mountain in the face of the galing winds of Tom’s wrath.

His mind whirled with the implications of what Hepzibah just revealed. His mother’s locket, foolishly sold with no regard to its true value. Deprived of his heritage by that miserable Burke. His _boss_. 

No. 

He must have his revenge. Burke would regret that decision one day. But even that was not enough. Tom needed that locket. It was his! He needed to see it, to touch it. 

Hepzibah did not deserve it. And to think that she had laid hands on it with her filthy hands. No, Tom could not let this go on. But he hadn’t known her for long. Would she let him anywhere near such a precious artifact?

He cringed inwardly at the idea of befriending this foul woman. Letting her run her hands over him. But it was a small price to pay if he could have his hands on the locket. Then he would kill her, for making him undergo a minute of her presence and for daring to covet what was his - both the locket and Harry…

Harry.

Harry would be able to guess that Tom was involved if Hepzibah turned up dead one day. Why was everything so _difficult_?

A crack sounded throughout the shop, startling all three of them. Tom stared in horror at his hand where he had gripped too tightly and cracked the vials in his frustration and anger. The broken vials released their contents of siren scales and dried unicorn blood onto the floor and his shoes. A potent mix when not tampered by runes. His shoes began to smoke and Tom hurriedly spelled away the spilled ingredients, but the damage was done.

“My goodness, Tom!” Harry exclaimed, with barely concealed worry across his face. Quickly, Harry knelt down to examine Tom’s shoes and feet, uncaring of the grime on the floor staining his trousers. “Oh, thank Merlin you are not injured.”

Tom frowned, unsure if Harry’s display of concern was in the slightest bit genuine. “I’m alright, it’s just the shoes.” He said, trying to appear unaffected. However, he was more than a little frustrated at the idea of his one good pair being damaged beyond repair. It was not something he would reveal however, in front of two people with so much wealth. He felt his anger flare once more, the truth of his poverty building upon the rage he felt at being denied his locket, his birthright.

Something must have shown on his face for Harry stood up again, his hand light and gentle upon Tom’s arm. “You have to get a new pair of shoes. These will hardly last a trip back to your home.” 

Tom kept silent regarding the fact that he was renting the tiny second-floor apartment above the shop. 

“I know a great shop which sells boots that are charmed against most volatile potions and alchemy ingredients. I will come back and meet you again here again when your work ends.” Harry promised. Before Tom could deny the help, Harry set his mouth in a firm line and said, “I insist”. 

Tom did not want to look like a charity case, but neither did he want to appear as if he was unable to afford a new pair of shoes, so he nodded his head in acquiescence. After all, he was certain Harry would forget all about it. Few people kept their promises unless a debt was extracted from them. 

Once Harry was gone,Tom set about trying to charm Hepzibah while plotting his next steps without drawing suspicion to himself. Time passed far too slowly for his liking. While he felt inordinately pleased that Harry was no longer here for Hepzibah to ogle, it took all of his willpower to put on a pleasant smile even as she continued to step closer and closer. And Merlin, even under the thick cloud of perfume, Tom could smell her sour and stale sweat.

It was only when it came time to close the shop that she finally relented on her advances.

“How quickly the day ends.” Hepzibah lamented. She leaned closer, her rank breath fanning across his face as she batted her eyelashes.

Tom only wished the day could have ended sooner.

“That lovely green-eyed boy said he would be coming back, didn’t he?” Hepzibah simpered. Tom gritted his teeth but outwardly kept his smile even as his jaw tensed. She wasn’t hoping to meet Harry again, was she?

“He postponed the meeting. He’s a very busy man.” Tom lied. “That owl that came by a couple of hours ago was from him.”

Hepzibah pouted, a horrid expression upon her overly-makeuped face. “Well, another time then.” She leaned closer, a hand reaching in his direction. He stepped back deftly and took the hand in his, bending down to brush his lips across her knuckles. 

Or, at least, just above her knuckles. There was no way he would dirty his lips upon her skin, after all. 

Still, it was enough, as she giggled and fluttered her eyelashes, fanning herself as she bid him goodbye.

Tom breathed a sigh of relief the minute she walked out of the store. He felt dirty having to keep up the pretense of congeniality with her, but it was necessary. Tom closed the door, locked it and turned the sign over to say closed.

He then walked back to the counter to give a last check through of the inventory for the day. It wasn’t until the sky was completely dark that Tom finished for the day. He trudged out of the shop in an irritable mood, intent on finding some food before retiring for the night.

He had just put his foot out of the door when he stopped short at the sight of Harry waiting for him with that easy smile on his face. His hair was windswept and he had his hands tucked into the pockets of his trousers. 

“Harry?” Tom asked, unable to hide his surprise. “You’ve been waiting here for me?” He took in the way Harry was hunched slightly, as if to get away from the evening chill. The way his cheeks and the tip of his nose were lightly flushed from the cool night air. “Since when?”

Harry’s smile turned gentle. “I promised you I would come back and bring you to get new shoes, didn’t I?” He gestured at the window. “I noticed you had put the sign to closed so I did not want to disturb you until you were ready.” Harry elaborated.

Tom narrowed his eyes. This man was _impossible_. How could there possibly be a person like this? Harry did not even look the slightest bit impatient at having been made to wait out in the chilly night for what must have been a couple hours at least. Tom found himself wondering whether Harry was the most skilled actor he had ever come across, or whether he was truly as selfless and earnest as he appeared to be. Tom doubted anyone could be so inherently _good_. Because there was no good or evil in this world, only power. And yet...

“Well, shall we?” Harry asked, gesturing in the direction of Diagon Alley. Tom followed him, eyes occasionally drifting to his companion. Perhaps Harry was genuine in his enthusiasm, and perhaps not. In the end, he supposed, it did not truly matter. If Harry was not sincere in his desire to please Tom, well, Tom would just have to train him until he was. Still, he rather liked the idea that Harry wanted to spend his time and money on him for no other reason than simple enjoyment of his company. It was… refreshing.

Deep in thought, it took a little while before he realised they were heading towards the South Side of Diagon Alley. He had a suspicion which store it was going to be.

“Twilfitt and Tattings.” He said, barely managing to hide his resignation when he looked up at the sign of the store Harry had just stopped in front of. It had closed two hours ago, however, and Tom was secretly delighted that he would not be forced to pretend that he could afford such luxuries. 

He frowned when he realised Harry had no intention of leaving, completely bypassing the closed sign and pushing straight through the entrance after giving a cursory nod.

“Harry?” Tom hissed in warning. The green-eyed man simply gave him what looked to be a reassuring smile.

“Mr. Potter.” An old man greeted them warmly the minute they crossed the threshold. “I’ve been waiting. Is this the young man who needed a new pair of shoes?” The old man, who Tom guessed was Mr. Twilfitt, rumoured to have a stern and serious disposition, gave Tom a curious once-over. 

Masking his surprise, Tom flicked his gaze to his green-eyed companion, mind whirring in calculation. Harry was receiving special treatment — he had to be wealthier and more influential than Tom previously imagined. He needed to reevaluate his plans. Perhaps Harry was even more useful than he realised.

Harry nodded, leaning forward to give Mr. Twilfitt a quick hug. “There was an incident with a few alchemy ingredients I had ordered and Tom here suffered the major brunt of it.”

“Or his shoes did.” Mr. Twilfitt eyed the ruined pair critically. “I have just the thing.” The elderly gentleman turned away, his back straight and proud as he disappeared through a set of thick velvet curtains. 

Tom stayed where he was, looking about at the artfully decorated store with its high ceiling, elegant arches framed with floor-length drapes, marble pillars and softly carpeted floor. There was even a chaise lounge and some ottomans at the side with plush cushions for waiting customers. It looked more like the antechamber of a pureblood manor than it did a clothing store.

“I hope you’re feeling a little better now.” Harry told Tom hesitantly. “Mrs. Smith seems a little forward but I’m sure she’s just a very lonely sort of lady.”

Tom resisted the urge to roll his eyes. It was far too plebeian a gesture. How could Harry tolerate Hepzibah’s character and appearance? By Harry’s own admission, he was also lonely, but he did not act in such a repugnant manner, and he certainly did not look or smell repulsive. No, Harry had a soft woody scent with a hint of citrus and, somehow, even after a long day, always looked fresh and relaxed in his oversized sweaters.

Unfortunately, Harry was too presumptive. Tom would not be able to afford anything in this store and he now had to figure a way out of this situation without insulting Mr. Twilfitt.

Harry bit his lip and glanced away when no reply came from Tom. 

Shortly after, Mr. Twilfitt came through curtains again with a few boxes in his arms. Tom felt rising frustration when he saw that even the boxes had gilt edges and the elegantly embossed words ‘Twilfitt and Tattings’.

“Dragonhide boots, very lasting and designed by yours truly.” Mr. Twilfitt announced. He removed the lid from each of the three boxes after placing them upon the chaise lounge, to reveal beautifully crafted boots of varying designs. Tom found that he could not pass the opportunity to try such fine boots, even if he could not afford them. Never before had he even touched shoes so well crafted.

They were not only aesthetically pleasing, but also felt incredibly comfortable on his feet, magically resizing to his measurements. The dragonhide was tanned to be as durable as possible. The boots were impeccably tooled and given such finely carved details. Truly, they were a work of art.

Tom found himself coveting the pair that had snakes entwined around the shaft and ending down at the vamp with ferocious open jaws. It was a subtle design, not overly ornate, but tooled just enough to catch the eye. The rich colours would deepen with age and wear, aging these boots with grace.

“This one then?” Mr. Twilfitt said with a knowing look in his eyes. Tom steeled himself to say he would purchase it another day, though he knew he could not fool Mr. Twilfitt. He would never again step into this store. But before he could say anything, Harry bounced forward and beamed at him and held his hands close together in front of his chest, his long sleeves clutched between his fingers. Tom was horrified when he registered the fact that he found the gesture adorable.

“I agree! This pair looks to be a winner!” Harry said enthusiastically, not seeming to notice how stiffly Tom was holding himself. He then turned to Mr. Twilfitt to give further instructions. “If you could bill that together with my earlier purchase for Balthazar?”

“Certainly, Mr. Potter. Two sweaters, a shirt, a hooded cloak, anti-slip socks and a pair of dragonhide boots.” Mr. Twilfitt confirmed. A flick of his wand had a quill taking a quick note on a nearby piece of parchment.

Tom stared wordlessly as his mind raced to register what he just heard. Harry was paying for him again? Was he truly this generous? Tom wondered for a moment if Harry pitied Tom, but - no, the man had given no such indication. Not once had Harry looked down on him. Tom was well acquainted with such looks, after being known as the Slytherin mudblood for his first few years at Hogwarts.

No, Harry was just… oddly eager to treat Tom. He disliked being thought of as poor and a charity case, and yet… the idea that someone would be so eager to give his time and money to Tom, would expend such efforts to _please_ Tom. It was a good feeling.

And somehow it felt even better when it came from Harry.

But the other matter was also of great importance. Because it seemed he wasn’t the only one benefitting from Harry’s generosity. It wasn’t just Tom. The thought grated on his nerves. The other beneficiary... Balthazar… Harry had already mentioned him once at the cafe during their first meeting, and now again. It seemed that this mysterious Balthazar was going to be a problem in the future.

This was unacceptable. The idea of Harry spending any amount of time and attention on another person sat poorly with Tom. The idea that someone else was stealing Harry’s attention away from him. That someone else dared encroach on Tom’s territory.

No, Tom would not stand for it. Because Tom did not share with others.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tom peered closer at the boots, a frown marring his brow as he studied the odd sheen to the leather. It couldn't be - 
> 
> It was. The leather was threaded with flakes of basilisk scales.
> 
> _Morgana's saggy tits_.


	3. Give it a stir

“Tell me,” Tom said as he surveyed the handful of followers he had summoned for this meeting, “what you know of Harry Potter.” He hated that they had to meet in a rented for cheap in Knockturn Alley, but he did not yet have the funds for anything more lavish. At least his followers did not dare complain.

Veiled gazes flicked among themselves as they attempted to recall what they knew. Tom’s hand twitched, itching to curse them for their unnecessary curiosity. That they would dare question his demands -

“I believe,” Yaxley spoke up hesitantly, “that he was in my brother’s year. A - ah, halfblood, if you will pardon me for saying, my lord. And a Ravenclaw. Graduated top of his class, and, if I recall correctly, Nicholas Flamel’s first apprentice.”

Tom’s eyes widened minutely. Nicholas Flamel. _Nick_, Harry had called him. Of course. How had Tom not made such a connection?

“He is Sirius Black’s godson,” Malfoy added. “Was formally adopted by him in his fourth year when Black was declared innocent.”

“Yes, it was Pettigrew all along,” Mulciber nodded, lip curling in disgust. “A half blood daring to frame a noble pureblood - “

Tom’s eyes narrowed and the room grew cold. The others shifted away from Mulciber, eyes downcast and shoulders hunched as they attempted to hide from their lord’s gaze. Really, Tom thought as he stroked his wand. Mulciber should have known better than to insinuate that he was _lesser_ because of his blood status.

He stood slowly and watched in satisfaction as the blood drained from Mulciber’s face.

“F-forgive me, my lord, I - I misspoke - “ Mulciber babbled, eyes flicking desperately to the others, but none would meet his gaze.

Taking his time, he walked around the table, his boots clicking loudly upon the old wood floor. Mulciber was trembling as Tom laid a hand on his shoulder. It would have been gentle and comforting but for the cold look in his eyes.

Tom smiled gently. “Crucio,” he intoned, letting Mulciber’s screams soothe his ire.

He relished the feeling, watching as this man - this proud pureblood - fell before him. And all it took was such a simple curse. A beautiful curse. Satisfaction purred in his ear as horror flashed across his followers’ faces at the sight of their fellow wizard, frothing and rolling in devastating pain. Despite knowing that Mulciber could be tortured beyond salvation, none of them dared to interrupt.

He held the curse until the man fell from his chair and to the ground, writhing in agony, at the mercy of Tom and his absolute power.

“Now,” he murmured as Mulciber whimpered, still twitching where he lay, unable to properly enunciate his apologies. He nudged the man’s head with his boot, ensuring that he was not too far gone. “Please, continue.”

There was a moment of silence. More glances exchanged. Tom’s eyes narrowed warningly.

“P-Pettigrew killed Potter’s parents,” Avery stuttered out, eyeing his lord nervously. “Framed Black and fled. Black ended up in Azkaban for about twelve years, till he escaped.”

Tom hummed thoughtfully. Harry was an orphan, just like him. Such likeness…

He waved his hand for his followers to continue as he walked to the small window. It overlooked Knockturn Alley, dimly lit by the sparse torches.

“N-not much else is known, my lord,” Yaxley said. “Potter rarely attends events. He left England shortly after graduation, and I heard that he is back, but have yet to see him at any of the functions…”

So Harry was important enough to run in the same circles as his pureblood followers despite his blood status. Important enough that his actions were noted. That he was recognized.

“Tell me,” he said, “does the name ‘Balthazar’ bring anyone to mind?”

His followers shifted and exchanged glances.

“There is Balthazar Charpentier, my lord,” said Malfoy. “Beauxbatons student.”

“Balthazar Divjak as well,” Yaxley added. “Attended Durmstrang, and graduated five years ago.”

Tom’s eyes narrowed. Around Harry’s age, then. Something dark, pulsing and angry, flared within him and his grip on his wand tightened.

“My cousin,” Mulciber rasped, still recovering from Tom’s cruciatus curse. “His name is Balthazar.”

“And do any of these men,” Tom asked, eyes narrowed and cold, “have any connection with Harry Potter?”

Uncertainty flared across their faces.

“Find out,” Tom ordered. “Find out all you can about Harry. And any connection with Balthazar.”

His followers scrambled to bow and scrape as he dismissed them, but a cold glare was enough to send them scurrying from the room.

Tom lingered, staring out the tiny window into the darkened alley. Nothing seemed to be going according to his plans. Immortality was still out of reach, his locket lay in the hands of a despicable woman, and Harry…

Forcing his thoughts away from the green-eyed man, he tapped his wand upon his palm. He could not kill Hepzibah Smith and steal her locket as he had first wanted. It would be too obvious. Harry would know. And the thought of his disappointment should he learn of Tom’s darker nature made him grimace.

No, he would simply have to bide his time. Have her lower her guard around him, then trick her out of it. He was a Slytherin. He could do it. He simply had to be patient.

***

Tom wanted to kill his boss. Wanted to peel the sneer right off of Caractacus Burke’s face. He forced a cool smile onto his face as he finished his shift and stepped out of the shop. He could feel his boss’ eyes lingering even as he walked away. All day the man had been staring, something dark in his eyes. Jealousy, Tom thought, since it had started the moment the man noticed his new boots.

“Seems we’re payin’ you too well,” the man had sneered as he had bent down to inspect the new footwear. And oh, how Tom had wanted to kick the man in the face. Had wanted to grind the heel of his boot into that cruel twist of the man’s mouth.

Because the man knew very well that he paid Tom a mere pittance for all his work, and then charged half of it back as rent. Tom could barely survive on what he was paid, even with his rigid control over each knut spent. If it wasn’t for Harry, he wouldn’t even have any shoes to wear at all.

Tom wanted something as beautiful to go along with his boots. After all, he still needed a new set of robes for the Malfoy ball. He needed something to _impress_. And yet, he was not even sure that he would be able to afford a full set, much to his ire. Perhaps he would have to settle for just a suit jacket and a new pair of trousers instead.

And even then…

His fists clenched at the knowledge that he would have to purchase second-hand items from Madam Malkin’s. How it burned, this humiliation. He remembered the judging gazes, the mocking laughter as he had sat down at the Slytherin table for the first time in his second-hand robes, the only ones he had been able to afford with the orphan fund provided for his supplies.

For three years he had endured their bullying, their sneers, whispers of the word _mudblood_ whenever they saw him. And now… now he was entering the real world, and he had to start all over again. Had to wade through the politics and the judgment and the utter _filth_ of hypocritical purebloods.

Just thinking about it made Tom’s face flushed with anger.

But he would endure. He would charm them, snaking his way through their defences just as he had as a student at Hogwarts, till all bowed before him. But how he hated that he did not yet stand at the same level as his peers, all because of his blood status. All because of his poverty.

Tom took a deep, calming breath as he strode through the crowds, forcing those thoughts away. One day he would have them all kneeling before him, begging for scraps of his attention. Until then, he would bear it.

But he would never forgive. And he would never forget.

Gaze cold, he swept past large gaggles of shoppers on his way to Madam Malkin’s. When he reached the entrance, the door was open and the shop was bursting with customers. Young children squealed as they ran about, dodging between the legs of the adults.

Tom sneered inwardly. The idea of squeezing with others…

The shop assistant, a pretty brunette, smiled nervously at him but did not say a word. Tom felt a rising sense of disgust and bitterness once more. After a moment of hesitation, he turned on his heel and walked away, in the direction of a very different area of Diagon Alley.

Tom’s feet carried him to the front of Twilfitt & Tattings, where he found himself wishing not for the first time that he had _more_. Did he not deserve to be able to buy such finery? He eyed the robes modeled in the windows, the mannequins far more lavish than anything Tom had ever been able to buy.

It was fairly busy inside, and Tom watched with a dark envy as the attendants fluttered about their customers, cheery smiles upon their faces. And those wealthy individuals waved their hands as they ordered with nary a thought. With no need to think about the price. No need to think about whether they would be able to afford their next meal.

He turned to continue on when something familiar caught his gaze. A head of dark, wild hair that could only belong to one person.

Harry.

It had to be fate, this was a sign. A sign that Tom was right. Harry was to be his.

Harry _had_ to be his.

He lifted his hand a little, then found himself hesitating. Thus far it had been Harry who had always taken the initiative, and Tom felt suddenly unsure, as he had never been in his life. All because of Harry, who was so near and yet seemed unreachable. It was an odd feeling, to be so uncertain. Tom did not like it. Always, he had simply reached out to take whatever he wanted.

For the first time since he sat in the orphanage at the age of ten, willing for his life to change, he found himself feeling… helpless as he wished, uncharacteristically desperate, for Harry to turn around. To see him.

_Harry._ He called out in his head.

At the moment, it seemed that Harry was far too engaged in his discussion to see Tom, but then he turned around, his eyes landing directly on Tom. His whole countenance brightened and he turned to say something quickly to his attendant before practically running to the door and opening it wide. The rush of warm air that blew at Tom’s chilled skin felt soothing. The beaming smile on Harry's face like the soft rays of sunlight in spring.

Tom knew then, for certain, that no one else would ever be allowed to have Harry. No one would ever take this away from him.

“Tom!” Harry grinned, his face flushing slightly as he stopped just short of Tom, his attendant a few steps away, holding the door open. “Are you shopping, too?”

The image of Harry blushing made a jolt of want flash through him, a hot and possessive feeling. “I am,” he said. “For the Malfoy ball.” Tom found that his smile came rather easily to his face when faced with Harry Potter.

“Oh! You’re attending the ball? I’m afraid I won’t be able to attend because of my alchemy experiment, but - oh, I know just the dress robes for you!”

Tom cut in immediately. “A full set of robes is more than I had intended to purchase.” Dress robes were, unfortunately, far too expensive, even if they would be far more impressive to wear to the ball.

“But you would look stunning in them. Especially the new one in the deep blue brocade.” Harry turned to the shop assistant, who was dressed far more richly than Tom. “Don’t you think so, Beatrix? It would match his eyes perfectly!”

“Of course, Mr. Potter.” Beatrix smiled.

Before he had a chance to respond, Tom found himself being dragged into the shop with Harry’s arm looped through his, as the green-eyed man called out towards the closed curtains at the back. “Victoria! Victoria!”

The curtains shifted open and Harry strode in with Tom in tow. In front of them stood a woman in fashionable robes, her hair piled high. “Oh it’s you, Harry.” She said.

Tom kept a placid expression as he faced Madam Tattings, the woman whose face was often plastered on one of the pages of Witch Weekly that the Slytherin girls read while he was at Hogwarts. With whom, it also appeared, Harry was on first-name basis.

“What can I do for you?” She asked Harry, though her sharp eyes assessed Tom.

Harry seemed to finally realise his arm was still looped through Tom’s and quickly withdrew with another flush of red to his face. “Tom here is attending the Malfoy ball and I thought he’d look great in the new dress robes you put up just yesterday. The one with the deep blue brocade… yes that one!” Harry exclaimed.

Tom found his composure sorely tested as Madam Tattings held up an elegant set of dress robes. It was a resplendent dark blue brocade so deep it was closer to navy except where the light shone upon its folds to give it a mysterious sheen. It had a tall collar and silver filigree woven along the hem and cuffs, split sleeves that fell from the elbows, and was cut flattering to the form with its broad shoulders and tapered waist. It was sublime - rich and fitting for a monarch.

Instead of rejecting it, Tom allowed himself to put on the robes with Beatrix’s assistance behind a curtain. The shop assistant blushed at him then led him back out. Slowly, he made his way over to the mirror and stood in front of it, looking intently at his reflection.

Tom knew that if he were to wear it to the Malfoy ball, no one would dare ignore what he had to say. But he could not afford it. It would not be amiss if he took inspiration from it, however. He turned to Madam Tattings, intent on telling her that while he liked it, he could not purchase it, when he caught sight of Harry gaping at him.

The young man’s green eyes shone with awe as he looked at Tom. His jaw hung open as he stood riveted by the sight of Tom garbed in luxurious robes. Tom felt… gratified somehow. He was used to admiring looks from others, even in standard Hogwarts robes. But he was starting to realise that Harry’s admiration meant something more.

Harry spun around and tugged at Madam Tattings’ sleeve. Tom found the sight of his hand reaching out from his oversized sweater downright adorable.

“Victoria. I want to buy this for Tom.” Harry said, glancing several times over as his gaze was drawn almost helplessly to Tom. Tom visibly startled before calming down again. He should not be surprised anymore, as it was clear Harry liked to buy expensive things for him. And yet he was so unused to generosity from others that Harry’s penchant for gifting him with luxurious goods still took him by surprise.

Madam Tattings looked between the two of them for a couple of moments before nodding. “Beatrix.” She called out. “Please bring Harry to complete the purchase for this.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Harry beamed at Tom, as if he was not going to spend what might amount to a decade of Tom’s earnings for a set of dress robes.

When Tom and Madam Tattings were left alone in the room, the designer stepped closer to Tom, studying him carefully in silence. Tom remained stoic and allowed her blatant analysis. Then, as if a spell had broken, Madam Tattings gave him a small smile and a pat on his arm.

“You know, we’ve known Harry for some time, and he is such a wonderful, lovely and sweet person. But I do worry about him. He’s such a lonely man. Brilliant, kind and caring, but lonely. I’m very glad he has found someone at last. I hope you will treasure him, young man.” She told him.

Tom blinked, then bowed and allowed a smile to grace his face.

“Of course, I take great care of what is mine.”

A furrow appeared between Madam Tattings’ brows but before she could reply, Harry returned. Tom smiled and strode over to him, placing his hand on Harry’s arm and leaned forward, close enough to kiss him.

Harry blushed red, his eyes growing wide as Tom leaned ever closer.

But instead, Tom shifted his head to the left and whispered a ‘thank you’ right in Harry’s ear. His breath brushed against the man’s skin, eliciting a small shiver and an ever deeper blush. He trailed his fingers lightly down Harry’s arm, and then settled on his waist possessively.

Yes, Tom would take _excellent_ care of Harry.

***

Tom could feel the eyes that lingered on him as he crossed the ballroom, his chin held high, his expression placid as he bore the attention. No - he thrived under the attention. The focus upon him that was the least that he deserved. 

He should have been the centre of it all no matter what, but he knew that at the moment he needed that extra flair for people to notice him. And the dress robes he wore - the ones dear Harry had bought for him - were exactly that catalyst. 

“Tom,” Draco greeted as he strode over. His eyes flicked around them to make sure no one was looking, and as he stepped closer, he lowered his eyes and dipped his head. “My Lord,” he said quietly, before stepping back again.

“Draco,” Tom nodded almost absently, his eyes scanning the ballroom as he noted all the people of noteworthy importance.

“The head of the DIMC is in attendance, as well as the Minister himself,” the Malfoy heir puffed up. “I’ll introduce you later. Oh, and Lord Selwyn is here, as well as Lady Shafiq.” He glanced at Tom, his gaze hopeful despite his best efforts to seem unaffected by his lord’s presence.

Tom hummed approvingly and watched with mild amusement as Draco preened. The Malfoy heir was not the brightest of his peers, so focused as he was on his image, but he had connections that would one day be of great use to Tom. So he tolerated the posturing.

Wearing his robes, and standing next to the Malfoy heir… yes, he could see it in the eyes of the guests. They were noticing him. Watching him, calculating. And for now, Tom would need to ingratiate himself but soon, soon… soon they would be falling over themselves to simply be in his presence.

Still, Tom could not help the flicker of disappointment over the fact that Harry was not in attendance. The man deserved, after all, to see Tom in all his resplendent glory. Not to mention, he would be far superior company to the Malfoy heir.

Draco glanced at Tom, wetting his lips a little nervously as his eyes flicked to Tom’s resplendent robes. He opened his mouth, then closed it again. Of course the boy would be uncertain. Jealous, most likely, of the fact that Tom had shown him up at his own ball.

When Tom did not speak, he grew a little flustered, his eyes darting from the ballroom and back to Tom.

Finally Tom glanced at the Malfoy heir. “Speak,” he said, waving his hand absently.

“Your robes,” Draco blurted out immediately, before flushing. “They, ah, they are quite magnificent. Not that you don’t  _ always _ look magnificent, of course, My Lord, it’s just that, these robes - they seem of extremely high quality, uh - “ 

Tom raised a brow at his flustered minion, almost amused by the uncharacteristic blabbering. “And what,” he drawled, “are you trying to say, Draco?”

Of course he knew exactly what the Malfoy heir was trying to say. But it amused him to see the man stumbling over his words in an effort not to offend him.

“I - the Twilfitt and Tatting’s original designs - quite prestigious, I mean. My father, of course, and my mother have purchased them before, but even I have yet to meet the owners - “

Tom waited patiently as Draco stuttered through his mess of a speech. “And?” He said finally, and his gaze turned frosty, eyes narrowing slightly in warning.

Draco paled a little, but forged onward in admirable bravery. “I - I know that your job is not the most lucrative - not that it’s not a respectable position, of course, My Lord, it’s just, Borgin and Burkes are  _ notoriously _ stingy, and - “ He paused then, his face twisting as he warred with himself over his next words. Then he set his jaw and lifted his chin, his eyes gleaming in foolhardy determination. “My Lord,” he began, voice strong, only for it to devolve into a high squeak as the next words left his mouth, “Doyouhaveasugardaddy?”

Tom stared.

“A what?” He said, turning his full attention on the Malfoy heir.

Draco faltered under the intensity of his lord’s stare. “A - a sugar daddy, My Lord. It’s, um, a muggle term, I suppose,” he frowned, lip curling slightly at the thought. “I heard Blaise using it the other week, when he - well, never mind, I just wondered…”

“And what,” Tom said slowly, “is a sugar daddy?” He wanted to be offended at the muggle term, but found himself curious instead.

“Uh, it’s when an older partner who has a lot of money pays for - well, everything, for their younger partner. Sometimes in exchange for - “ he broke off, his cheeks tinged pink. “Well, not in every situation, mind you,” he said with a nervous glance at Tom. 

Tom leaned back, his finger tapping his chin. He supposed that did describe his situation with Harry rather aptly. There was no _sexual_ _exchange_, as Draco had implied, but Harry did seem to wish to spend time with Tom in return for his generosity.

“I suppose,” Tom mused, “I have met someone who is far too generous for his own good.” He glanced back with narrowed eyes at Draco who was looking a little on the pale side, waiting for his lord’s reaction, waiting to be punished for his audacity. Then Tom smiled and the man relaxed. “It was indeed he who gifted me these robes. They suit me, don’t you think?”

Draco was quick to nod his agreement, and layer compliments as he followed Tom further into the ballroom. Tom allowed his fawning, as well as his relief at having escaped punishment.

There would be a crucio waiting for him later, of course, when the night came to an end. Really, Draco should have known better than to question him so insolently. A foolhardy courage, worthy of a Gryffindor, not a Slytherin. 

And one day soon, no one would dare question him at all. Tom smiled charmingly at the Undersecretary to the Minister for Magic, stepping forward to shake the man’s hand. Yes, soon. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tom smoothed the robes as he hung them up in his closet, pleased with their performance at the ball. Something caught his eye and he frowned and peered closer at the jeweled glimmer that decorated the collar and cuffs of his new robes. Was that - 
> 
> Fire crab gems?
> 
> _Of course_, Tom shook his head. He really shouldn’t be surprised.


	4. Please pass the sugar, daddy

Tom pursed his lips as he strode through the bustling streets of Diagon Alley. He’d chosen to take the longer route to his destination, passing through the fancier parts of the alley for the third time that week. He thought about checking Restaurant Alexandria, where Harry had taken him for his first meal, but he had already checked twice that week and did not wish to appear desperate. 

Each time he’d hoped to run into Harry, and each time he’d been disappointed. It was not a feeling he enjoyed. He cursed the fact that he could not yet afford to buy an owl; he could rent one from the post office, but would have to sacrifice several meals just to pay for it. He could also borrow an owl from one of his followers, but he did not wish to pique their curiosity any more than he had to. Because Harry was his, and his only. Not even Balthazar could stand in his way.

He’d been hoping to avoid relying on post by finding the man in person, but he supposed at some point he would simply have to stop avoiding the inevitable. 

His grip tightened around his package as he reached the apparition point without the slightest hint of Harry. His expression darkened. He had run into Harry so frequently in such a short period of time, and then quite suddenly, the man was nowhere to be found for over a week.

Was Harry avoiding him? Had Harry… tired of him? He clenched his fists and his knuckles whitened at the thought. Because that just wouldn’t do. Harry wasn’t allowed to just leave like that. Harry wasn’t allowed to leave… ever.

He forced a polite expression upon his face as he apparated and approached the receptionist at St. Mungo’s. She blushed and stammered the directions for his delivery as he smiled at her and he smirked inwardly, pleased at the effect he had on others. Even without the robes Harry had purchased for him, he still garnered such attention. Although he noted—feeling rather displeased—that their swoones paled in comparison to Harry’s bright smile.

“Down the left hall,” she said, smoothing her hair back, “second last door. Healer Lenus will receive your delivery.” She leaned forward eagerly. “I could show you the way, if you would like.”

Tom smiled, just a small curl of his lips. “Thank you,” he inclined his head, “however I believe those behind me need your help more than I do.”

“Oh,” she deflated a little. “Of course,” she flushed then, eyes flicking to the line that had formed behind him. “Well, if you have any further questions, I would be more than happy to help…”

Tom’s merely nodded, relishing the way her eyes followed him as he strode down the hall. As if she was worthy of standing next to him. It was laughable, the thought that anyone might think they could be equal to him. Though, if there were anyone who might come close - 

“ - dicine for Balthazar, Healer Lenus. He’s been miserable all week, and I’m at my wit’s end. I’m just so worried.”

Tom’s eyes widened. He knew that voice.

Harry.

His eyes narrowed and he paused for a moment just outside Healer Lenus’ room. The door was ajar, and he could just spy his Harry pacing in front of the healer, his gestures more than a little frantic. Something inside Tom gentled even as another part darkened.

A week. A week with no sign of Harry, all because of Balthazar. Tom clenched his jaw, furious at the thought that someone dared come between him and Harry. He had already known that Balthazar posed a threat to his plans for Harry, but to see it so blatantly obvious was infuriating. He had originally planned on taking his time in dealing with the man, but he knew now that he couldn’t be so patient anymore.

Smoothing out his expression once again, he rapped gently on the door before stepping inside, feigning surprise upon seeing Harry.

“Harry,” he said, allowing his eyes to widen minutely before turning slightly. “Healer Lenus, I have your delivery.” He offered his package of rare ingredients to the healer, who accepted it with a grateful nod.

“Thank you, Mr. Riddle.” The healer pressed the tip of his wand to the parchment that Tom held out, signing for the items. Then he unwrapped the package and took one of the vials. He shook seven seeds into a small paper packet. Bundling it along with seven miniature vials of potion, he pushed the package into Harry’s hands. “Add one seed per vial, right before giving him his medicine. He’ll be right as rain in a week, I assure you.” He ushered them both out and closed the door with a firm click.

Tom glanced at Harry, noting with ire just how fatigued the man looked. It irked him to know that Balthazar was so poor a partner that he would drive Harry to such exhaustion. Tom’s eyes narrowed as he noted the scratches on his arms and the light bruise on Harry’s cheek. A hot rage flared within him at the thought that someone dared lay a hand on what was his.

“Harry,” Tom said, allowing a smile to touch his face. “I haven’t seen you in a little while.”

The green-eyed man ran a hand through his hair, looking a little guilty. “Yeah, sorry about that. Balthazar got sick and I’ve been spending my time looking after him. Honestly, he’s so stubborn about seeing a doctor…” Harry frowned in mild annoyance, before his expression returned to its worried state.

“So stubborn as to get physical about it?” Tom asked, his eyes roving across the dark bruises and scratches on Harry’s skin. Something dark and ugly festered at the sight. He was the only one who should be touching Harry, after all.

“Oh, no, that was me,” Harry laughed, looking a little nervous. “I was trying to help him and he just wasn’t happy and I tripped and fell down the stairs. I’m fine though, really. It looks much worse than it really is.”

Tom’s eyes narrowed, angry at Harry’s blatant dismissal of his obvious wounds. 

Harry grinned. “I was careless,” he assured. “I’ve been working day and night on my alchemy project, so I’ve been a bit clumsier than usual.” He tucked the medicine under his arm as he gestured for Tom to walk with him out of the hospital. “I should have owled you,” he continued. “I meant to, but I just got so caught up with work, and then with Balthazar…”

“Of course, you have no obligation to me,” Tom murmured demurely, lowering his head to hide the ire in his eyes. Harry might dismiss the subject, but Tom most certainly would not forget it.

Harry waved his hand. “It’s the polite thing to do! And you shouldn’t hesitate to owl me, as well, if you wish to meet.” Harry glanced at Tom, the hope blatant in his expression.

Tom smiled, pleased by Harry desire to spend more time with him. “Most certainly I would have, but unfortunately I have yet to acquire an owl. It has not been a matter of priority for me.”

“Oh,” Harry blinked. “Well, if you are in need of one, my godfather, Sirius, has been breeding them in his spare time and Merlin knows he has a few dozen too many. Would you like one? They’re a little excitable, but extremely loyal and hard working.”

Sirius? The name seemed familiar. A star name - a Black, perhaps? Now that he thought of it, he remembered one Sirius Black, released from Azkaban after being cleared of all murder charges.

“I would not wish to deprive him of one of his owls…”

“Nonsense, he has more than he can keep track of. He won’t even notice that it’s gone. Besides, he wouldn’t mind.” Harry smiled. “Really, it’s no problem. They need more opportunities to stretch their wings, anyway.”

“Then, of course, I shall accept his generosity - and yours. Thank you, Harry,” Tom smiled back, the expression coming far more easily to his face than it ever had before.

Harry beamed. “Great, I’ll send one along in the next couple days.”

Tom dipped his head in response. They reached the hospital apparition zone far too quickly for his liking, and Harry fidgeted for a moment before glancing at Tom. “I’ll see you around, then?”

“Of course,” Tom murmured, his eyes trailing once more upon Harry’s wounds. “And you’ll be alright with Balthazar?”

“Oh, of course. He’s harmless - really, he doesn’t mean any of it. He was very sorry afterwards - I promise!”

Tom hummed, not allowing his expression to show his disbelief. Harry was stubborn about this, but Tom was not about to let this go. He would have to move slowly, so as not to reveal his intentions, but he knew what he had to do.

He had to make Harry invite him over. He had to meet Balthazar himself. Had to deduce just how dangerous he was, and then - take him out.

Tom smiled. “I’ll see you soon, Harry,” he said. Very soon.

\--

His followers cowered before him, as they should.

“So little, you have found,” Tom said, stroking his wand as he paced in front of his followers. “And to think, I had put my faith in you to complete such a simple task for me.”

“Forgive us, my lord, I’m afraid we have had difficulty navigating the muggle world,” Malfoy spoke. He grovelled the least of the three, though he kept his head lowered and his eyes trained on the floor.

“The muggle world,” Tom said, raising a brow.

“Yes, my lord. I learned that he was raised by muggles. His last remaining blood relatives.”

“And you did not think to tell me this until now?”

“Forgive me, my lord. I did not wish to impart incomplete information.”

Tom’s eyes lidded. A smooth tongue, but just a touch too much insolence. He flicked his wand and watched in satisfaction as Malfoy’s eyes widened, his hands reaching up to grasp at his throat. His mouth gaped unattractively as he tried desperately to gasp for breath. 

Mulciber and Yaxley did not dare look up, but they trembled all the more as their fellow Knight of Walpurgis was punished. 

Tom smiled. “I do not tolerate failure. Nor to I tolerate disrespect. Do remember that for next time,” he said as he ended the curse.

Malfoy fell to the ground, coughing and retching. “My lord,” he rasped as he crawled back. 

“Find the muggles,” Tom said, with little impatience left for their incompetence, “and find out everything they know.” 

They bowed and fumbled over themselves in their haste to retreat out the small door.

Tom glanced at the clock and pursed his lips. He had only been able to rent this room for two hours - any more and he would have to forego his meals for the next day. But he needed to know what they might find.

His fist clenched for a moment. 

“Macnair,” he said, quiet and cold. He smiled as his follower stopped, turning even paler. “I will see you at your manor. The wards still recognize me, yes?”

“Of course, my lord. Always, my lord.” Macnair bowed hastily.

Tom smiled. “Good. Now go.” Then he apparated to his small flat, eyeing the small, decrepit room with a curled lip. One day he would have more. One day he would have the luxury that he deserved.

He grabbed the book he had been reading, then apparated to the Macnair manor. It was a dark and looming place with tall crooked spires and few windows. It was full of twists and turns inside, designed to trick the mind. One could go crazy within these halls, if one did not know the way.

But Tom was far too intelligent to let such things trick him. He stepped inside without hesitation, throwing his cloak to the house elf that appeared at his side. Macnair’s parents were rarely at the family manor. They preferred to stay in France or Italy, which suited Tom just fine. 

He made his way to one of the many empty rooms. It consisted mostly of a large desk and a few bookshelves that were partially empty, but it Tom rather enjoyed its deep green walls and dark wooden furniture.

He settled down in the large chair behind the desk and opened his book. He was only part way through the book that Harry had bought him, as it was a particularly large tome, but he had learned many new curses. Still, no information on immortality yet, to his great frustration.

It was perhaps an hour or two later that there came a knock at the door. Tom waited a few moments before flicking his wand and allowing the door to slowly open. 

A handful of his followers shuffled in, all exchanging nervous glances.

“My Lord…” McNair mumbled while glaring at the others for having picked him to deliver the bad news.

“McNair.” Tom murmured as he kept his eyes on the book he was reading. “I hope, for your sake, that your information is not disappointing this time...”

McNair hunched in just a little more. “It’s the muggles. The filth we took from Potter’s childhood home.”

Tom’s eyes snapped up. “What did they say? Did they reveal anything at all about Harry’s past?” His followers looked even more uneasy. Selwyn was practically shivering where he stood. 

“They were not able to tell us much, my Lord, except that Potter was a freak for having magic. We were not able to find out about his family life. A very stupid bunch of Muggles. We could hardly get anything out of them.” McNair reported, brow scrunching. The rest of Tom’s followers nodded, murmurs of agreement following his statement.

Tom’s eyes narrowed. He knew McNair’s ability in torturing information out of people, which was why he had initially assigned him to the muggles’ case. But to hear that the man had found nothing filled him with cold rage. “Useless!” He hissed, his wand flicking out as he readied to cast the cruciatus curse. McNair flinched in response, knowing what was coming.

For the second time that day, Tom had to unleash his fury on his incompetent followers. McNair thrashed on the ground, his limbs flailing helplessly as his screams bounced off the walls. Tom lazily flicked his wand again and ended the curse once McNair was drooling on the floor, his nerves completely shot.

There was something odd about this, however. No matter how stupid muggles were, they would choose to reveal anything and everything if only to save their own skin under threat of further torture. Especially if they already mistreated Harry in the past as he suspected… 

Tom knew this from first-hand experience, of course. He had gone and hunted every single muggle who bullied him in the past, who so much as looked at him wrong. They were weaklings and cowards, but not stupid. If anything, they were utterly self-serving.

“Bring them here,” Tom decided. His followers glanced at each other, before moving silently to carry McNair out of the room. It was almost ten minutes later that the door opened once more, this time with three muggles dragged in between seven of his followers. The muggles were not resisting at all, but they might as well have been. His followers panted as they attempted to push the largest one through. Malfoy, in particular, looked as if he had been running for hours. Tom arched an eyebrow, watching in amusement. 

“You could have levitated them in,” Tom remarked. His followers stayed silent, no one daring enough to point out that Tom himself set a rule that no magic could be cast in his presence without his permission. With a lazy stretch, Tom stood and strode over to where the muggles were made to kneel. 

There two exceedingly large and obese men, with an extremely skinny woman sandwiched in between. They stared dully, mouths gaping slightly as they used their meagre intellect to try and understand the situation. Tom could not help wrinkling his nose at the sight. With his wand raised, he pointed it at the first muggle’s forehead, tilting it up so he could stare into those piggy eyes.

_Legilimens_.

Images flashed before his eyes, but there was no real coherent thought behind them. Drills. The door of a cupboard under some stairs. Breakfast. A brown suit. The cupboard door again. Bacon slices on a plate. The cupboard door. An owl. The door. Many owls. The door. The door. The door.

Tom frowned and moved onto the skinny woman in the middle. Flowers. A white fence. The cupboard door. A frying pan. The cupboard door. An apron. The cupboard door. 

Tom wrenched out of her mind, his frown more pronounced than ever. Whatever lay in Harry’s past had to do with the cupboard under the stairs, the image of the small white door looming ominously in their minds. Perhaps it was where they had punished Harry whenever he was deemed to have made any mistakes. White-hot anger burned within Tom. 

He wanted nothing more than to curse these horrid creatures to oblivion. But he suspected, from the state of their minds, that he was not the first one to have had revenge upon him. It was clear they had been tampered with before. Someone had gone through their memories and left with little care for their mental state afterwards. Tom felt both pleased and irked that someone had gotten to them already.

He pursed his lips and turned to the last one - clearly the son and just as much a whale as his father. Tom cast legilimens again, but this time was not greeted by images of the cupboard under the stairs. Instead, he blinked and found himself standing in a green field full of flowers. It was almost idyllic if the imagery was not spoiled by the sight of the same filthy muggle seated on the grass.

“Hello, the hummingbirds are happy today.” The young man said, smiling widely, his face one of serenity and peace. Tom chose not to reply. This was unprecedented. Never had he encountered something similar before.

“Here to get your fortune told? The squiggles are flying all over eight times over.” The muggle spoke again, his fingers twiddling with a few stalks of grass. “My fortune?” Tom asked, humouring the creature, and choosing to ignore the rest of the sentence. 

“Yes!” The muggle grinned. “Or some well-meanness advice.” The young man then took a deep breath before breaking out into an odd little tune. “Don’t you doobeedoobeedoob seek immortality alooodoodooloodoo, or you’ll find yourself an nononono noo noo no nose sosososo ugly snake and rubbuhdubbudubdub red eyes. Oh nono no you don’t! No nose no nose!” The muggle giggled and tapped on the side of his head. “I’ve seen it all!”

Tom’s lip curled in disgust and he jerked back, away from the fool of a muggle. Then he was back in his room, wand still trained on the young man, who looked at him with blurry eyes and a stupid expression on his face. Some drool had escaped from the corner of his mouth.

The muggle’s mind was even more far gone than his parents. Whoever tampered with their minds left them barely more than bumbling idiots. Tom shook his head. There was indeed little information he could get, except for the importance of a certain cupboard under the stairs.

“You four,” he gestured. “Take them away,” he ordered, “put them back in the dungeons. I will decide what to do with them later.”

He eyed the three remaining death eaters. “You have done well in bringing them to me,” he acknowledged. In time, he was sure, the world would be cleansed of three more beasts.

Tom paused for a moment, allowing them their relief and pride.

“And of Balthazar?” Tom asked, then, his eyes roving across their pale faces. Fear pinched the corners of their lips and forced their eyes down.

Good.

“N-no sign of any connections, my lord,” Yaxley said, fingers twitching at his side.

“None of them?” Tom raised a brow.

“Not that we have been able to find,” Yaxley said. 

Tom hummed. Perhaps a foreigner, then. Even better. It was far easier to dispose of someone who had no connections here in the first place. He just had to make sure that neither of them was implicated in the murder. It would not do to have Harry put under undue scrutiny, after all.

Tom smiled. “Please,” he conjured a table and chairs, “sit.” He strode to the head and sat down, crossing his legs and leaning back, his chin propped upon his hand.

His followers followed suit, sitting more stiffly, looking rather discombobulated by his sudden change in mood.

“I have no desire to be unfairly strict,” he said, his smile still in place, eyes dark as he surveyed the three loyal wizards. “It is simply that…” he tapped his wand to his cheek as he paused in thought.

“I wish to court Harry Potter to our side,” he mused. “He would be a most beneficial asset.”

His followers exchanged glances.

“He wants for nothing,” Tom continued, almost to himself. “What, then, does one gift to such a person?”

“A - a fine token, perhaps?” Yaxley suggested feebly when no one else seemed able to speak up.

Tom shot him an irritated glance, soothed only by the way Yaxley cowered. “There is nothing I can gift him that he would not simply buy for himself.”

“Of course, my apologies, my lord…”

Lips thinned, Tom turned his attention to the others. 

“Perhaps - a sweet gesture, my lord? One that that does not require money but still gives happiness?” Malfoy spoke next. “My father often uses this method with my mother, and it is quite effective…”

“A… kind gesture,” Tom repeated flatly. 

The others nodded, warming up to the idea. “Oh, yes, I once found a box of old poems my father had written my mother when they were betrothed,” Yaxley added.

Tom gave him a blank stare. “...Poetry.” Merlin strike him down if he ever thought that attempting to be sappy was a good idea. Besides, it wasn’t as if he was in love with Harry. He simply wanted to ensure that the man could never leave his side. Keeping him happy was simply the easiest way to do so.

“Oh, yes, poetry,” Malfoy did not seem to note Tom’s derision. “My father actually composed a song for my mother, once. She was over the moon.”

Tom resisted the urge to groan. Merlin, but his followers were useless. But no matter. He would figure this out on his own. And then he would have Harry Potter worshipping him and only him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tom tapped his lips thoughtfully as he stared at his bed. An image flashed into his head - Harry on his back, panting and writhing and begging for Tom’s gift.
> 
> And Tom would gift him as no others could.
> 
> Yes, yes that would work nicely.


	5. A sugar cookie on the side

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas/happy holidays!

Tom’s expression darkened the moment the last customer left the shop. He locked the door, extinguished the candles at the very front of the store, and flipped the sign, ensuring that no one would mistake the shop as being open. 

It was surprisingly busy in Diagon Alley for the eve before Yule, though he supposed that it wasn’t uncommon for people to leave their shopping until the last minute.

Not that Tom had ever bought anyone else a gift. Most years he had been too poor. This year, having been taken out for dinner so many times, Tom had managed to save quite a bit.

Still, he had not managed to find a gift for Harry. He had searched through all of Diagon and Knockturn, and had come up empty handed, unable to find a single item that was suitable. Nothing felt… right.

Tom moved easily through the darkened store, pulling out the day’s profits from the front desk. He lit only a single candle nearby, unbothered by the tired light and flickering shadows. He flicked his wand, the coins counting themselves and the quill dutifully jotting down the day’s sales. 

He supposed, then, that it was just as well that he had not managed to invite Harry to spend Yule with him. He had approached the subject, of course, but Harry had sounded so happy over the fact that he would be spending Yule with Black, some family friend named Lupin, and of course - Balthazar. He had decided against demanding Harry’s presence for the holiday, since he knew that causing Harry any amount of grief would be counter-productive in his attempts to court the man to his side. Not to mention, that the thought of Harry looking sad made Tom feel… oddly upset.

So he had sat and nodded, listening while Harry had talked about his plans.

His lip curled at the thought. At the memory of Harry’s fond expression when discussing his lover. Of cuddling him on the couch or in the early morning in bed. His fists clenched, knuckles white and bones creaking. _ Tom _ should be the one causing that expression, not this _ unworthy Balthazar _. But no matter. Tom would deal with him soon. Harry would be sad for a while, but he would soon realise that it was no great loss. And of course Tom would be there to help him through his grief…

A cold smile curled his lips and, pleased with his plans, he finished closing the store and stepped out into the cold night air. His breath puffed and he shoved his hands into his pockets. 

As he left Knockturn Alley and headed into Diagon Alley, he was besieged by the loud cacophony of people celebrating the holidays. He dodged through the crowds of disgustingly cheerful families that wandered through the alley. He had to find dinner, and then he could retreat to his apartment. Shabby as it was, it was certainly far preferable to the raucous streets and terribly merry festivities.

His mood grew darker the further he walked. The ground was covered in snow, but luckily not even the cold penetrated the thick leather of his boots. Enchantments, perhaps, or runes that even Tom could not see.

Still, his boots and his warm coat - yet another gift from Harry - were the only things keeping him from pulling out his wand and sending a crucio at every witch or wizard who dared bump into him. As if a holiday excused their terrible manners. 

Nothing in Diagon Alley looked appealing, so he headed back down Knockturn where, at least, there was far less holiday cheer. It was still crowded, but at least here people tended to avoid each other. One day when he had conquered wizarding Britain, he thought with a glare, he would do away with all festivities and holidays. Useless things, they were, that served only to irritate him.

For a moment as he walked, Tom thought he saw a head of familiarly wild hair, but when he blinked, it was gone. He shook his head, scowling at his own foolishness. Could he think of nothing else but the green-eyed man?

He lingered near the alleyway leading to Restaurant Alexandria, where Harry had first treated him to lunch, then shook his head. He would look like a fool, trying to find him now. Of course the man was with his family. With Balthazar. It was Yule, after all.

His lip curled and he turned and headed back up the alley. Perhaps he would simply stop at The Leaky Cauldron and have them pack him a meal to bring home. Simple, but cheap. He would much rather save his money for his other plans. He was almost ready to begin spreading word of his goals. Not to mention all of the books on magic he had yet to acquire. There were certain subjects he was dying to research.

Footsteps sounded behind him. Tom stepped to the side, having no desire to end up sprawled on the ground because some fool couldn’t bother watching where he was going.

“-om!”

Tom tilted his head slightly, but did not stop. He would not let this strange desire he felt in his heart lead him to madness.

“Tom!”

But - he knew that voice. Knew it so very well. Knew the way it wrapped his name in layers of warmth. The way it sounded when ringing with laughter. The way it softened so very fondly every time it spoke of Tom.

He paused and turned, and found himself staggering back as a dark head of hair hit his chest and arms wrapped around him. 

“Tom! I thought you weren’t going to stop,” Harry laughed, eyes ever-green, pale cheeks flushed with Yule cheer. And he looked angelic, his hair laden with snow, a few flakes stuck to his lashes, and his smile wide and bright.

Tom’s voice caught for just a moment. The chill of the air, most likely. He cleared his throat. “Harry,” he said, enjoying the feel of the man’s form pressed close to his. “Out for some last minute shopping?”

Harry blinked, then shook his head. “No, no, I finished my shopping a month ago. I was looking for you!”

Tom blinked. “I see,” he said, pushing down the oddly warm swell within his chest. “I am afraid I only just got off work.”

Harry nodded with a grimace. “I had a feeling it would be you manning the store today. Of course Borgin and Burke wouldn’t lift a finger to help out on a holiday. Miserable wretches that they are.” He shook his head in disappointment. 

Tom allowed a smile to touch his lips. “They do leave much to be desired,” he agreed, leaning down and bringing his face closer to Harry’s under the guise of a conspiratorial whisper. It flushed Harry’s cheeks further, and Tom straightened with a pleased smirk. 

“I - “ Harry faltered, seeming to realize just how close, how intimate he was being with Tom, and he drew back slightly, his words stuttering. “Sorry, Tom, I was just - ah, I mean, Happy Yule,” he laughed, his eyes lowering in embarrassment. He picked nervously at the ends of his sweater, the sleeves poking out slightly from the ends of his cloak.

“Happy Yule, Harry,” Tom replied, tilting his head. “But shouldn’t you be with your… family?”

Harry blinked as if just remembering something. “Oh! Yes! I mean, no! I mean, that’s why I’m here - er, not because of my family, but - because of you.”

Something akin to triumph flashed through Tom. That Harry had come seeking _ him _ out. Not his family. Not Balthazar. But Tom. And why should he not? Tom was far superior to all of them, after all. And one day they would all know it.

“I just, I’m sure you probably have plans and everything, but I had hoped that maybe we could spend a little time together. For Yule. If you have time, I mean. I don’t mean to impose or anything. I just thought it would be nice - “

“That sounds lovely,” Tom smiled, eyes dark and greedy as he watched Harry beam up at him. 

“Great,” Harry laughed, sweet and light, like the ringing of gentle bells. “Great, that’s great! Um, I thought - since, you know, you were working today and all, that we could go for dinner? Restaurant Alexandria has this fantastic Yule dinner and they always - they will make - er, have space. You like it there, right?” Green eyes peered up at him hopefully.

And who was Tom to say no to such a request? “Of course,” he replied, pulling Harry close as they turned back towards the restaurant. “It reminds me of our first meeting. How could I not?”

Harry flushed as he beamed up at Tom, a delightful combination of happiness and flustered embarrassment, and all of it directed at Tom. As it should be.

He let his hand linger on the small of Harry’s back as he guided the smaller man towards the restaurant. Even though the thick cloak, he could feel the heat of Harry’s body seep through, warming his skin.

Upon reaching Restaurant Alexandria they were quickly ushered to a table overlooking the courtyard. The restaurant was full, and yet they waited no more than a minute for a spot. As Tom watched Harry smile and thank them, he thought he might understand why they were so eager to please him. 

Still, Tom would prefer it if Harry’s attention was focused solely upon him.

He stepped forward between Harry and their host and helped the smaller man remove his cloak. Harry was wearing a ridiculously bright, festive sweater that made Tom’s eyes water just by looking at it. It was red and green and covered in dancing, flashing baubles, and as usual was two sizes too large for the man. Tom forced his expression to remain pleasant as he handed Harry’s cloak to the host, and then pulled out Harry’s chair. A bright smile was sent his way, and Tom’s lips curled, eyes lidding in satisfaction.

He handed his own coat over before taking his seat. Then he reached over and took one of Harry’s hands with his own. He lifted it up and brushed his lips across the knuckles, feeling pleased when Harry blushed once again. 

“I am very pleased to be able to spend this time with you, Harry.” Tom said, his fingers squeezing the smaller hand possessively, and lingering even as Harry lowered his eyes to the menu in a blatant attempt to compose himself. It was rather endearing, just how flustered the man would get with such simple gestures. As if he didn’t quite know how to handle being touched.

Finally, Tom released Harry’s hand and allowed the man to order for the both of them. It was a ritual, at this point. Harry would order their food, and Tom would keep the leftovers. It brought a smile to Harry’s face every time Tom met his eyes and took the small box that was packed for them. Tom was not quite sure why he enjoyed it so much, that sweet look upon Harry’s face, but he found that he wanted it, more and more. All of Harry’s smiles should belong to him.

“I hope your Yule as been most enjoyable so far,” Tom said after Harry ordered. 

“It has been,” Harry smiled. “It’s been mostly just me and Balthazar so far, and we fell asleep on the couch twice already, but tomorrow will be the big day. Sirius and Remus will come over and I’ll be cooking dinner.” Harry paused, looking a little hesitant. He opened his mouth as if to speak, then closed it again as the server arrived with two glasses of champagne. 

Tom smiled, even though he wanted nothing more than to curse the server for interrupting. Because whatever it was that Harry wanted to say was gone with the moment, and Harry instead clinked his glass to Tom’s, wishing him a happy Yule.

He took a sip of his champagne and allowed the alcohol to warm him and soothe his ire. He couldn’t be impatient. Couldn’t rush things and scare Harry away. If he wanted to keep Harry at his side, he had to take it step by step.

Not to mention that he had to curb his desire to hunt Balthazar down and rend his head from his neck. To think that Balthazar thought that he could be so close, so intimate with Harry, when Harry belonged to Tom?

“You have actually taken a break from your research, then, for the holidays?” Tom inquired.

Harry blushed a little. “Yeah,” he said. “Balthazar yelled at me until I stopped. There’s really no appeasing him,” Harry rolled his eyes. “But it’s probably for the best. I do tend to get very caught up in my work…” He ruffled his hair, cheeks still a little pink.

Tom stiffened slightly, but forced himself to relax and smile. No, he would not remove Balthazar’s head from his neck. That was far too quick. He would torture him first, for even thinking of raising his voice at Harry. Even if it was to prevent him from missing the holidays. 

Their meal arrived and Tom had to admit that it was far superior even to the Hogwarts feasts. “Truly delightful,” he murmured when Harry glanced at him to see how he was enjoying it.

Harry beamed, radiating a truly incredible amount of holiday cheer. Tom couldn’t help but soften at the sight. The man’s sweater was garishly bright and every time he reached for his glass of champagne, the overly-large sleeves threatened to fall into his food. Still, somehow he managed to keep them clean. 

Tom should have hated the sight of such merriness, but somehow he found that he did not mind when it was Harry. Perhaps, he thought, amending his previous conviction, he would allow for some winter festivities. If only to see Harry looking so very happy.

It was while eating their pudding that Harry began to fidget, looking a little uncertain as he glanced at Tom. 

Tom simply continued to eat, pretending not to notice, waiting for the man to speak. It was not an uncomfortable silence but it was a potent one, waiting to be broken. Tom did not know why Harry was suddenly so nervous, and something dark lingered just below his thoughts. 

If Harry wanted to break things off. To stop seeing Tom - well, it was too late for that now.

“I - um,” Harry said, cheeks flushing a little. “I have a Yule gift for you,” he said in a rush, head ducking down as if to hide behind his fringe. “I hope you don’t mind.”

Tom’s eyes widened, the darkness retreating from his thoughts. “You are far too kind,” he said before he could quite stop himself. It was the truth, but Tom preferred to use his words more carefully. There was something about Harry, though, that brought out a sense of raw emotion. 

Harry laughed and shook his head. “It’s just a small token, really. I just - I thought you might like having it.” He reached into his pocket and brought out a small package wrapped a little clumsily in cheerful red and green paper decorated with waving silver trees.

Tom took it gently, taking longer than necessary as he brushed his fingers along Harry’s hand. “Thank you, Harry,” he murmured, smiling as Harry stuttered, his blush traveling down his neck. 

It was surprisingly heavy, and Tom felt curious. A gem, perhaps? Or maybe something that Harry had enchanted?

Tom took his time unwrapping the jaunty yellow ribbon. It clashed terribly with the paper, but Tom could only place it fondly to the side as he turned his focus to the paper. It took but a touch to undo the sticking charm, and the paper fell away to reveal something that glinted gold.

Tom’s breath hitched as a flash of green peeked from behind the last fold of paper. His hand trembled slightly as he lifted the heavy locket, the elegant curve of Slytherin’s snake gleaming in emerald. A colour that matched Harry’s eyes, Tom noted, feeling oddly pleased by the thought as he brushed a finger over the gems. 

His heart thudded almost painfully in his chest. His. It was… his. His birthright, his ancestry, his proof of greatness. His fingers closed around it, greedy, possessive. It belonged to him now.

He glanced up to see Harry smiling hopefully at him. “Harry,” he said, his voice cracking. But he could not bring himself to care about just how undignified he must look. Because Harry had bought this - just for him. Had approached Hepzibah Smith and - oh Merlin, the amount it must have cost him, for Hepzibah was no fool. She knew just how much it was worth. 

Did Harry know? Did he know just what it meant to Tom? _ Just a small token _, he had said. But surely he would not have gone through such an effort if he did not know just how much it meant to Tom.

Did Harry suspect, then, that Tom was Slytherin’s heir?

Did he… care?

“Thank you, Harry,” he said, forcing his emotions back and taking a deep breath to calm himself. “It is a most priceless gift. An heirloom of my family,” he continued watching Harry’s expression avidly. “It was my mother who sold it. Desperate for money.” He paused, not quite sure why he was revealing so much. 

But Harry was still smiling. “I am glad,” he said, “that it is returned to its rightful owner.”

Tom waited for a breath longer, but there was no disgust, no trace of rejection in his eyes. And Harry’s smile widened in delight as Tom pulled the chain over his head and tucked the locket under his shirt. 

How strangely kind, Harry was. Tom found it difficult, sometimes, to truly believe that Harry had no ulterior motives. But again and again, the man showed him his just how good he was, and Tom couldn’t help but covet such kindness. Such generosity. He wanted it all for himself.

“I am afraid,” he murmured, once the locket was safely nestled against his chest, “that I have no gift for you.” He lowered his head to convey regret. And in some ways, he did regret. For surely Harry would smile at him - and only him - if he gifted him something grand. Something no one else could give him.

Harry laughed and waved a hand. “Your company is more than gift enough,” he said. He glanced at his watch before leaning forward eagerly. “If you’ve finished your meal, do you want to go somewhere magical?” He grinned, green eyes merry.

And Tom found himself smiling once more, his lips turning upwards almost without his permission. “Of course,” he agreed with little thought. “I would love to.” 

“Great!” Harry laughed, standing. Immediately a server appeared, summoning the usual parchment for Harry to stamp with his seal. Then he procured their cloaks and bowed them out.

The air was crisp and cold and their breaths fogged, mingling as they stood close. “There’s an apparition point not far from here,” Harry tugged him down the alleyway and up a small side street. 

Moments later they were gone.

They arrived to a flurry of snow and biting cold. Harry quickly flicked his wand, and Tom felt a surge of warmth upon his skin, though the snow still clung to his cloak. He glanced at his companion, who grinned up at him. 

“Snow is half the fun,” Harry said, his voice light and ringing. “Now, come on!” And he pulled Tom down the snowy path lit by numerous floating lights. No - by small, glowing fairies that giggled as they walked past, fluttering their wings and sending drifts of sparkles down behind them. 

Harry was laughing, his face luminous and his eyes bright. Tom wished, then, that he could capture this moment and keep it forever. To see such pure, unadulterated joy on Harry’s face… 

Tom’s heart clenched, just for a moment, before he pushed such strange thoughts away. He followed Harry more calmly, though he did have to admit, when Harry pointed through the trees, that the sight that met his eyes was indeed truly magical.

Gentle music rang out from a choir of merfolk, their voices ringing through the bubble of water that held them safe and warm. Within the small clearing lay an array of small stalls, each selling something unique and beautiful. The night was lit by more fairies up above, and floating candles along the pathway. 

It was not overly busy, but those in attendance were dressed in splendid finery. Still, Tom could see the casual lilt to their stances, the relaxed expressions, the animated gestures that were unusual for most wealthy witches and wizards.

He could catch snippets of English, but most of what he could hear was either German or something that sounded vaguely similar. He glanced at Harry who was still grinning. 

“It’s my favourite Yule market. One of the few open on both Yule Eve and Yule Day. Here,” he dragged Tom to one of the stalls that was handing out steaming hot drinks. Harry took one with a word of thanks and pushed it into Tom’s hand “Try it. It’s mulled wine.”

Tom eyed the drink, but nonetheless brought it to his lips. He took a sip, and then a larger sip immediately afterwards. It was sweet and spiced and it spread a lovely warmth through him. 

“Nick and Penny brought me here every Yule,” Harry said, a nostalgic tinge to his voice. 

“We’re in Switzerland, then?” Tom queried.

Harry nodded. “It’s not as large as some of the others, but I’ve always found there to be something truly enchanting about this place.”

Tom couldn’t help but agree. Perhaps it was the way the lights flickered, warm and soothing. Or perhaps the way the smell of mulled wine and Yule treats blended delightfully. Or even the way the music filtered through the murmured chatter in beautiful harmony.

Or perhaps it was - 

Tom studied Harry and the way his cheeks were flushed from the wine and his eyes sparkled and his smile made him look so very _ bright _.

Pulling Harry to his side, Tom let Harry’s chatter wash over him, sweet and pure. He accepted the pastries that Harry pushed into his hands, as well as the second mug of mulled wine, while Harry sipped on his third, looking rather flushed.

And as the evening wore on, a strange feeling grew within Tom. A desire to keep Harry so close that the man could never stray. To have him - always. Not just another follower. But someone to keep by his side… forever.

“What do you think,” Tom asked, not quite sure why he was broaching the subject with Harry, “of immortality?” Perhaps it was the alcohol, sweet and potent, addling his thoughts in a dangerous way. Just one slip, and Harry might learn all of Tom’s dark secrets.

Harry blinked, surprised. Something else flashed across his face, but in Tom’s inebriated state, he could not quite catch what it was. 

“Immortality,” Harry hummed. “It’s a nice thought, but…” he frowned. “Eventually… wouldn’t you get tired? If you couldn’t die. If there was no way out of this life. When everyone you know and love is dead. When the world is falling around you.” He turned to Tom, eyes so very green. “Perhaps,” he said, “if I were not alone, I could handle it. But to find someone with whom I could share immortality… is not easy.” His gaze was strangely piercing, as if he was searching for something. But what he was looking for, Tom did not know.

Then Harry looked away, and the moment was lost, and Tom wondered if he had missed something.

Tom remained silent. Contemplative, even as Harry told him of the time Sirius had set the kitchen on fire while trying to cook Harry a birthday breakfast. He smiled indulgently at the right moments, but found himself mostly watching the green-eyed man, wishing that he could delve into the man’s mind and learn all of his secrets. He wished to know him, inside and out. He wished to possess the man.

Eventually Harry paused, peering at Tom with narrowed eyes. “The festivities will last for another few days, but it is getting late. I should really get you to bed.” 

Tom raised a brow as Harry stumbled a little, expression just a little _ too _ focused as he tugged Tom out of the clearing without another word. This was not the first time they had drunk alcohol together, but it was certainly the first time Tom had seen Harry quite so inebriated.

“Perhaps I should apparate us home,” he said, catching Harry as he tripped. Tom could feel the alcohol, a pleasant buzz in his system, but he was certainly not so badly off as Harry.

Harry frowned, but did not disagree. “As long as we drop you off first,” he said. 

“And how will you get home, then, when you can barely walk straight?” 

Harry glared up, unusually fierce. “I’ll see you home safe, Tom Riddle.”

And Tom felt something warm unfurl in his chest. Something that was not alcohol. “Very well,” he found himself saying. “My place first, then.” He gripped Harry close - perhaps closer than necessary - and apparated them back to London.

Harry stumbled to the side looking a little green as they landed. “I don’t think I want to do that again,” he moaned, clutching at his stomach. Tom steadied him and waited for a few moments as Harry took a few deep breaths before straightening, still looking a little pale. “I’m okay,” he said. “Sorry.”

“It is perfectly alright,” Tom assured him. He rather liked the way Harry leaned against him for support as they walked down Knockturn Alley and up the small side street to the door that led to Tom’s apartment.

He tapped his wand to unlock his door and then hesitated. He glanced at Harry, who still looked a little pale. “Would you like to come in and rest for a bit? Perhaps have some water?” He unfortunately had no sobering potions on hand, but Harry really did not look to be in any condition to apparate home. 

It was strange, as he did not usually care about anyone else’s wellbeing, but Tom did always take care of what was his. 

Harry glanced up at Tom, looking a little surprised, before beaming. “Sure,” he said. He allowed Tom to guide him up the stairs, tripping only twice before they reached Tom’s small apartment.

Hesitating once more, Tom glanced at Harry, not truly wishing to let Harry see the pitiful state of his apartment, but neither wishing to let Harry Apparate home in such a state, then pushed the door open. 

They stepped inside the cramped space, and Tom pursed his lips at the sight. It was clean and tidy, but the place itself was old and decrepit with yellowing walls and uneven floors. And no matter how many spells Tom cast, he could not seem to make the place look any better.

Shame and frustration rose within him and he glanced at Harry who was looking around with a slight furrow to his brow, his lips pursing in displeasure. 

Tom looked away, unwilling to witness the disdain that would grow upon the man’s face. Would he still seek Tom out of his own volition after this? Not that it truly mattered, of course. Tom was not about to let him go.

“It is small, but I assure you I keep it very clean,” he said as he hung his cloak and then helped Harry remove his. “I am aware that it is not the decadence that you are used to, however - “ He cut himself off, not quite sure why he was babbling so. He had never felt the need to apologize before. So why did he wish to put Harry so at ease? 

“Don’t worry,” Harry sounded warm as ever, if a little slurred, and Tom glanced at him. The man’s green eyes were lightly glazed from the alcohol but his words were strong, no lie tainting them. “It’s far nicer than my cupboard.”

“Your cupboard?” Tom asked a little sharply, his brow furrowing. There was something about a cupboard, he remembered. Something in the Dursleys’ minds…

“Yes,” Harry said, turning to Tom with a rather sad smile even as his face showed his inebriation. “The cupboard I grew up in. It was far smaller, and far dirtier than this. So don’t worry. I think your place is lovely.”

Fury scorched him. It exploded in raw anger that burned through him and his hands trembled with the urge to curse and maim and _ hurt_. 

“What did you say?” He breathed, his voice soft with the danger of crackling flames of ire.

Harry blinked slowly. “My cupboard,” he said, not seeming to notice the way Tom’s face twisted at the words.

Tom wanted to demand Harry to elaborate. To tell him everything. But then Harry wobbled, stumbling slightly as he clutched at his head with a slight groan, and Tom immediately stepped forward, reaching out and steadying him. He breathed in deeply, smelling the smell of snow and trees and mulled wine still clinging to Harry, and tried to calm himself.

“I feel kind of awful,” Harry said, his voice a little shaky. Tom closed his eyes for a moment and pushed away his anger. He would find out, but perhaps not at this moment.

He guided Harry to the couch and eased him down.. Harry sat with a sigh, leaning his head back and closing his eyes. 

“Here,” Tom said, pressing a glass to Harry’s hands. “Drink. You’ll feel better.” He waited until Harry had drained the glass before refilling it and forcing the man to drink once more. “Honestly,” he sighed. “If I had realized how much you had drunk…”

Harry laughed. “I just got so caught up talking with you,” he said. “I didn’t notice how much I was drinking.”

And Tom found himself smiling despite his best efforts, his previous fury replaced with an odd warmth. How endearing Harry made everything seem. “Neither did I,” he murmured, reaching out and pushing Harry’s bangs away from his face. Green eyes watched him as he sat down next to the man. “I enjoyed this Yule very much, Harry,” he said softly. “Thank you.” The locket hung, heavy and warm against his chest. And Harry’s eyes watched him with an intensity that Tom coveted.

There was a moment of silence as they stared at each other, their shoulders touching, their faces close. 

Then Harry smiled. “I’m glad,” he said. “I did, too. I think it was the best Yule I’ve had.”

“Yule is only halfway over,” Tom pointed out, ignoring the disappointment that flared as Harry pulled away.

“I know,” Harry replied, leaning back again with a sigh, his eyes drifting shut. “But I was so happy. I didn’t want it to end.”

_ Neither did I_, Tom thought, though he did not speak as he watched Harry fall asleep, his breaths evening, his head lolling. His dark lashes shadowed his cheeks and his lips parted, tantalizing even in his sleep.

Tom trailed his fingers along Harry’s cheekbones, reveling in the softness of his smooth skin. The man’s lips were slightly chapped but plumped pleasingly under Tom’s thumb as he pressed lightly, watching with lidded eyes as the skin paled, then reddened enticingly. 

Harry sighed in his sleep and Tom traced down Harry’s neck into the dip of Harry’s collarbone. Such a beautiful man. How Tom wanted to make him his. Wanted to mark him. Wanted to steal him away so that no one else could touch him. Especially Balthazar. Tom wanted nothing more than to hunt him down at this very moment while Harry slept, oblivious to Tom’s scheming. 

But there was something vulnerable about the man, curled up on his couch, unlikely to wake even if the place should go up in flames and danger crawl from the shadows.

No, Tom would not leave him now. He stood and flicked his wand. Harry’s body lifted and turned until he was lying sideways on the couch, a pillow tucked under his head. Tom conjured a blanket and tucked it around Harry’s slim form. 

He stepped back, his eyes dark as he gazed upon the man who could so easily become his. But now… now was not the time. So he turned and headed to his own bed. One day Harry would be his. Tom just had to be patient.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tom flicked his wand, turning off the lights in his small apartment. He frowned as a flickering glow persisted in the corner of his eye. Surely he had not miscast such a simple spell?
> 
> He turned and felt his jaw drop and his eyes widen in horror. For Harry’s sweater was glowing and flashing in a kaleidoscope of colour. Oh Merlin, it was _hideous_. He felt a little nauseated as he watched the baubles flicker, rearranged into the shape of a christmas tree, and he had to sit down. 
> 
> He wondered just how upset Harry would be if the sweater managed to magically disappear...


End file.
